Bus ride
by murrey-2012
Summary: I suck at summaries so basically it's re-write of the end of chapter 27 of the awakening.
1. Bus Ride

**Hey everyone, this is my first fanfic, so reviews are welcome. This is just an idea I had at midnight and decided to write down. It's a re-write of the end of chapter 27 of The Awakening. It starts halfway through. Disclaimer: I do not own The Darkest Powers.**

For the next few hours, I plotted and Simon drew. When I started yawning, he closed the sketchbook.

"Take a nap. We still have five hours to go. We'll have lots of time to work on this after we get to Andrew's place."

"Will we be staying with him?"

Simon nodded. "He's got the extra room. It's just him – no wife or kids. He'll take us in, no problem." He put away the sketch pad, then slowly zipped his backpack. "There's another thing I've been thinking. I know it's not exactly a good time, but once we get settled in, I thought maybe you and I could –"

A shadow loomed over us.

Simon didn't bother looking up. "Yes, Derek?"

Derek leaned over the seat, one hand on the back for balance as the bus swayed. He seemed distracted, almost anxious.

"We're coming up to Syracuse soon."

"Okay."

"I need something to eat. I'm starving."

"Sure. I figured we'd jump off and grab dinner."

"I can't. Not here." When Simon looked confused, Derek lowered his voice. "Syracuse?"

"I don't think they're going to be hanging out at the bus station."

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

"Nah." Simon looked up at his brother. "I'll grab some food, okay?"

Derek hesitated. He didn't look anxious, really. More unhappy. Because Simon was annoyed with him?

As I watched Derek lurch back to his seat, I thought about that. Simon and Derek weren't just foster brothers –they were best friends. From the way Simon talked, though, he obviously had other friends, teammates, girlfriends…. I doubted Derek had any. For him, it was just Simon.

Was that why he wanted to get rid of me? It made sense, but it felt wrong. At Lyle House, Derek had never seemed jealous of any time Simon spent with me. Derek just went off and did his own thing. If anyone followed, it was Simon.

Maybe he wasn't jealous. Just feeling ignored.

It bothered me enough that when we stopped at Syracuse, I offered to take the food back to Derek while Tori and Simon stretched their legs.

I meant to suggest that Derek and I switch seats. When I got there, Derek was staring out the window.

"Everything okay?" I asked.

He turned sharply, like I'd startled him, then nodded and took the food with a mumbled thanks.

I slid into the empty aisle seat. "Did you used to live here?

He shook his head and looked out the window again. I took that as a sign that he wasn't in the mood for conversation and was just about to suggest the seat switch when he said, "We lived just about every place else in the state except her. We can't. There are … others here."

"Others?"

He lowered his voice. "Werewolves."

"In Syracuse?"

"Near it. A pack."

"Oh."

Was that how werewolves lived? In packs, like wolves? I wanted to ask, but was afraid he'd think I was mocking him.

So I said, "And that's a problem? If they smelled you?"

"Yeah," He paused, then added grudgingly, "We're territorial."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

He kept looking out the window. I could see the reflection of his eyes, still and distant, lost in thoughts he obviously didn't care to share. I started to get up.

"When I was a kid," he said, without looking my way. "When I lived in that place where you were locked up, the others were like that. Territorial."

I lowered myself into the seat again. "The other werewo-"An elderly woman approached in the aisle and I said instead, "Subjects?"

"Yeah." He turned then. "They had this pack, I guess you could call it, and they'd claim stuff, like the sandbox, as their territory, and if –"

His chin lifted, gaze moving to the front of the bus.

"Simon's coming," he said, "He's looking for you. Better go."

I thought about my original idea about switching seat with Derek, but I changed my mind. Instead, I drew up my feet and tucked them under me. Derek fixed me with a confused look.

"If you want to sit by Simon, you can. Or you can go find a seat with Tori. Otherwise, you're stuck with me," I told him.

"Chloe," he said, "You don't have to sit back here with me."

"I know I don't _have _to," I said, "But I _want_ to."

He seemed to think about it for a second, then nodded and turned back to the window, already deep in thought.

As the bus started moving again, I glanced up at Simon to see his reaction. I met his eyes and he smiled. Not his normal flirty smile, but a knowing one.

For the next few hours, Derek and I sat in a comfortable silence. I wanted to ask his more about his past, but I knew I wouldn't get an answer and I was grateful for what he had already told me.

After a while, my eyes began to droop and I fought to keep them open. I felt my head lean and I let it fall onto Derek's shoulder, where I kept it. I closed my eyes, though I still couldn't sleep. The heat didn't reach the back and it took everything I had not to shiver.

I felt Derek move beneath me and then felt him lay his jacket over me, protecting me from the cold. Smiling, I relaxed against him and let sleep take me.


	2. Peeling Duty

**Well, I'm finally back. This one is a re-write of the beginning of chapter 6 of The Summoning.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Darkest Powers**

Mrs. Talbot set me up peeling carrots for lunch. I didn't dare tell her I'd never peeled one in my life. After hacking my thumb, I got the hang of it.

As I peeled, my mind started to wander… into places I'd rather not visit. So I called in my best defense: turn it all into a movie.

As traumatic experiences went, the last few days were my best film fodder ever. But what genre would it be? Straight horror? Or psychological suspense? Maybe a combination of elements, surprising the viewer with –

"Peeling duty already?" a voice whispered. "What'd you do to deserve that?"

This time, when I wheeled around, I didn't see a disembodied hand, but a whole body. A guy, in fact, maybe a year older that me, a half foot taller and slender, with high cheekbones and dark blond hair worn in short messy spikes. His almond-shaped brown eyes danced with amusement.

"You must be Chloe."

He reached forward. I jumped back. The carrot leaped from my hands and bounced off his arm. A real arm. Attached to a real guy.

"I-I-"

He put a finger to his lips, then pointed at the dining room door. Beyond it, Mrs. Talbot was talking to Liz.

"I'm not supposed to be in here," he whispered. "I'm Simon, by the way."

I was suddenly aware that he was standing between me and the exit. His smile was friendly, and he was definitely cute, but cute didn't count with a guy who had you cornered in a group home.

"Simon?" a voice said.

Over his shoulder, I could see Mrs. Talbot. He turned around.

"I thought that was you," she said, "I wanted to talk to you about your math test."

"Coming," he said, following her. Before leaving, he turned and said, "I'll be back."

Now left alone, I turned to return to peeling. As I turned, I looked up to see a guy I didn't know. Yelping, I jumped back, accidently elbowing the bowl of peeled carrots, sending them flying. As my foot stepped back, I slipped on a fallen carrot and began to fall back. I felt a strong arm wind around my waist and hold me up.

My hands had a death-grip on a large bicep as I caught my breath. Looking up, and up, I stared into the face of a boy. His dark hair hung lank and dull over his face, which was littered with acne. But beneath it, I could see a strong jaw and intense green eyes.

Noticing I was staring, I blushed and started babbling apologies.

"I'm so s-sorry," I said. "I'm j-jumpy and I didn't see you there."

"S'okay," he said, pulling me back to my feet.

"I'm Chloe," I said.

"Derek," he said, his voice a deep rumble.

"Thank god that's over," a voice said.

We turned and saw Simon walking in. Seeing Derek, he smiled and said to me, "I see you've met my brother."

"Brother?" I said

"My foster brother," he explained, as he walked into the pantry. I could hear him rooting in the shelves. When I peeked in, he was taking down a box of graham crackers.

A kitchen raid? I couldn't help smiling. Guess it didn't matter whether it was a group home or summer camp, guys and their stomachs didn't change. Simon pulled out an unopened sleeve of crackers.

"The other one's open," I whispered, pointing.

"Thanks, but he'll want the whole thing. Right, bro?"

Derek grunted a response. As Simon walked out of the pantry, Tori appeared in the doorway.

"Hi Simon," she said. "I wanted to talk to you."

As Simon tried to weasel his way out, Derek and I escaped the kitchen. Before leaving, Derek turned to me.

"Welcome," he said.

"Thank you," I responded.

Nodding, he turned and went up the stairs.


	3. She Sees Dead People

**Okay everyone. I really liked the reviews I got. Two in particular were very motivating. So in response to Winkadink and Sammicakes, I will be continuing from the last one on. I will be skipping a few scenes cause they don't feature both Chloe and Derek. **

**This one is the middle of chapter 6 of The Summoning.**

**Disclaimer: I do not *sob* own The Darkest Powers.**

I met the last housemate, Peter, over lunch. He said hello, asked how things were going, then turned his attention to his PSP as he ate. Like everything else at Lyle House, it was all very normal. Too normal. Every time someone moved, I tensed, waiting for her to start speaking in tongues of screaming about bugs crawling over his plate. No one did.

The food was decent enough. A homemade casserole, chock-full of vegetables and meat. Healthy, I was sure. Like the milk and whole wheat rolls we had to go with it. For dessert, we'd been promised Jell-o. Oh joy.

The sirens and screeching from Peter's game provided most of the meal's soundtrack. Rae was a no show. Tori and Liz twittered together, too low for me to join in.

So that left Simon to play host, with Derek talking between bites. Simon asked what part of the city I was from. When I admitted I hadn't been in any neighborhood very long, he said they'd moved around a lot too – him and Derek. We started comparing worst-move-ever stories, and Tori jumped in with her own tale of moving horror – from her upstairs bedroom to her basement. As much as he tried, Simon couldn't seem to get her to leave him alone, so that left me and Derek. He slowed his eating to accommodate the conversation.

"So," I asked him, "What was your favorite place?"

"A couple of years ago, we lived in a house in the middle of the woods," he told me, "Me and Simon would spend the day climbing trees and exploring. At night, we would look at the stars."

"That sounds like fun," I said, "I've always lived in apartments so I never got a chance to play in the woods that much, if ever."

"So, what school do you go to?" he asked me.

"A.R. Gurney," I said, "It's an art school."

Tori, who had been eavesdropping, turned her attention to me and started talking.

"Art school," she breathed. "Isn't that just _fascinating_. Tell me, Chloe. What do you study there? Ghost photography? Ghost writing?"

I choked on a chunk of meat that I had been chewing on.

"Oh." Tori turned doe eyes on Simon. "Didn't Chloe tell you why she's here? She sees dead people."

Peter lifted his head from his game. "Really? Cool."

When I looked back to Derek, he wasn't looking at me. He was glaring at Tori for existing.

"It's not like that. I – I –I –"

"There she goes," Tori sighed, "Liz, slap her on the back. See if you can restart her."

"Stop being a bitch, Tori," Derek said.

Tori, not caring what Derek said, looked at Simon. Seeing him glaring at her, she froze, mouth open, still shot of humiliated horror. Derek returned to his lunch.

"I didn't mean it that way," Tori said, words tumbling out. "Like Peter said, it's kinda cool. If she does see ghosts, maybe she could help Liz with her, you know, poltergeist."

"Tori!" Liz shrieked, dropping he fork.

"Here we go," Derek grumbled.

Liz's eyes filled as she screeched back her chair. Tori retreated into stumbling apologies again. Simon grabbed Liz's glass before she knocked it flying. Peter hunched over his game. Derek took advantage of the chaos to scoop up the last of the casserole.

The kitchen door flew open and Mrs. Talbot appeared, but her words were beat back be the cacophony.

Rae appeared in the other doorway holding a basket of dirty laundry.

"Last call." She mouthed, "Any more?"

No one else noticed, much less heard her. I glanced around, and realized with all the commotion no one would notice if I left. So I did.


	4. Who Were You Talking To?

**Okay everybody, sorry for the wait. I got a little lazy. But on the bright side, a new chapter. Yay! Also, waiting awhile gave me a new idea for story. So, what do you think? Should I write a second story? Also, I made an amazing discovery and I felt so proud of myself for like 3 hours. I figured out the books take place in April. Which means Chloe's birthday is in March. I feel smart. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Darkest Powers. **

**This one is the beginning of chapter 7 of The Summoning**

I tossed a pair of pink underwear, marked _Liz_ into her pile, then stopped. Did we wash the guys' underwear, too? I really hoped not. I sifted through the pile, finding only ones for Rae, Liz, and Tori, and exhaled in relief.

"Girl..."

A man's voice over my head. I stiffened but forced myself to keep sorting. No one was there. Or, if someone was, he wasn't real. This was how I needed to handle it. Not jump like a scorched cat. Tough it out. Hear the voices, see the visions, and ignore them.

"...come here..."

The voice had moved across the room. I lifted a red lace thong marked _Tori _and thought of my little girl undies.

"...over here..."

I tried to focus on how I could get better underwear before anyone washed mine, but my hands started to tremble from the effort of ignoring the voice. Just one look. Just one –

I glanced across the room. No one there. I sighed and returned to sorting.

"...door...closed..."

I looked at the closed door. The one I'd noticed earlier, which was proof that the voice was really just my overactive imagination.

_Why do you need proof? What else would it be?_

Great. Two voices to ignore.

"Open the door...something...show you..."

Ha! Now there was a classic movie scene: _Just come look behind the closed door, little girl._ I laughed, but the sound quavered, squeaking at the end.

Get a grip. Toughen up or they'll never let you out.

My gaze snuck to the door. It looked like an ordinary closet. If I really believed the voice was in my head, then what was stopping me from opening it?

I strode to the door, forcing myself to put one foot in front of the other, knowing that if I stopped, I'd lose my nerve.

"Good...come..."

I grasped the doorknob, the metal cold under my fingers.

"...open..."

I turned the handle slowly. It went a quarter turn, then stopped. I jiggled it.

"Locked." My voice echoed through the laundry room.

I jangled it again, then twisted sharply. The door didn't budge.

"Key...find...unlock..."

I pressed my fingers to my temples. "The door is locked and I'm going upstairs," I answered.

As I turned, I smacked into a wall of solid flesh and for the second time that day gave a girlie yelp. I looked up to see the same face that had made me shriek the last time.

I stumbled back and would have fallen if Derek wouldn't have grabbed my waist like he did the first time. My hands tangled in the layers of his sweatshirt as I calmed down.

As I let go of his shirt, he released my waist. Looking up at him, I asked, "Did you want something?"

"Who were you talking to? "he asked.

"Myself," I answered, not wanting him to think I was crazy.

"Huh."

"Now, if you'll excuse me..."

He moved slightly, indicating that I could go. As I walked passed him, he said, "You saw a ghost, didn't you?"

To my relief, I managed a laugh. "Hate to break it to you, but there's no such thing as ghosts."

"Huh."

His gaze traveled around the laundry room, like a cop searching for and escaped convict. When he turned that piercing look on me, it softened. His voice softened as he asked, "What do you see, Chloe?"

"I – I – I don't s-s-s –"

"Slow down." He said, his voice soft and low. "What do they look like? Do they talk to you?"

"You really want to know?"

"Yeah."

I chewed my lip, considering actually telling him. Instead, I took the chicken's way out. I lifted on my tiptoes. He bent to listen.

"They wear white sheets with big eye holes. And they say 'Boo'!"

His lip twitched and I realized he was smiling. Laughing at what I said. He lifted his hand and waved it in front of him, as if to say "after you". Turning around, I walked up the stairs.


	5. Moping Around

**Okay, so I know that it hasn't even been a day since my last update, but because my last chapter was kinda…. Well, we won't go there. Anyway, here's to make up for it. Sorry it's short.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Darkest Powers. Dang it.**

**This one is later in chapter 7 of The Summoning**

After my session, I ducked into the media room to think. I was curled up in the love seat, hugging a pillow to my chest, when Simon sailed in.

Not seeing me, he crossed the room and grabbed a baseball cap from the computer desk. Humming under his breath, he tossed the hat in the air and caught in.

He looked happy.

How could he be happy? Comfortable, maybe. But happy?

He flipped the cap over his head and tugged it on. He stopped, his gaze fixed on the window. I couldn't see his expression, but he went very still. Then a sharp shake of his head. He turned and saw me. A flash of surprise, then a broad grin.

"Hey."

"Hi."

He stepped closer, smile fading. "You okay?"

_I'm fine_ sprang to my lips, but I couldn't force it out. I wasn't fine. I wanted to say I wasn't. I wanted it to be okay to say I wasn't. But the concern in his voice went no deeper than his grin, neither touching his eyes. They stayed distant, like he was making an effort to be nice because he was a nice guy and it was the right thing to do.

"I'm fine," I said.

He twisted the bill of his cap, watching me. Then he shrugged. "Okay. But a word of advice? Don't let them catch you holing up in here. It's like going to your room in the day. You'll get a lecture on moping around."

"I'm not –"

He lifted his hands. "Their words, not mine. I'm just warning you. You can get away with turning on the TV and pretending you're watching it, but they'll be happier if you're up and about, hanging with us. We're not such a bad bunch. Not too crazy."

As he smiled, I sat up and leaned into the cushions. I did want to talk. Not about Dr. Gill. Not about schizophrenia. About anything _but_ that. Simon seemed normal, but something held me back.

As I though, his gaze shunted to the door. Sure, he thought I should hang out… with someone else. He was just giving advice to the new girl.

The doorway darkened and Simon's smile flashed fresh.

"Hey, bro. Don't worry. I didn't forget you. Just talking to Chloe."

He waved my way. Derek looked in, his eyes meeting mine briefly before he looked back at Simon.

"We're heading out back," Simon said, "Kicking around the ball for our break. You're welcome to join us."

The invitation came lightly, automatically, and he didn't even wait for a response before he brushed past Derek with, "I'll get Talbot to disarm the door."

Derek stayed where he was. He turned back to me, watching me.

"Hi," I said softly.

"Hi." He grunted.

I turned my gaze to my hands, which were folded in my lap. I considered going with them so I could talk to Derek. Ask him what he meant in the basement. Instead, I kept my mouth shut. I didn't want to interrupt their break.

When I looked up, Simon came back, telling Derek the door was open, then he walked out. Derek gave me one last look before saying, "See you at dinner," and turning to go.

"Bye," I said as he walked out, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

**Okay, so like I said before, I'm considering starting a new story also. What do you think? Yay or nay?**


	6. I Didn't Mean It

**Okay everyone, I bring you chapter six. For all of you who feel the chapters should be longer, you're in luck, cause this one's the longest so far. Unlike my other chapters, this one strays a little from the original plot. I took one of the scenes and added a character that wasn't originally in it. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Darkest Powers.**

**This one is from chapter 9 of The Summoning.**

"Chloe? Chloe?"

Liz's voice echoed through the deep caves of dreamland, and it took me a few minutes to find the way out. When I opened my eyes, she was leaning over me, bathing me in toothpaste breath, her long hair tickling my cheek. The hand clutching my arm kept trembling even after she stopped shaking me.

I pushed up on my elbows. "What's wrong?"

"I've been lying here for hours, trying to think of some way to ask you, some way that won't sound weird. But I can't. I just can't."

She backed away, her pale face glowing in the darkness, hands tugging at her nightshirt neckline, like it was choking her.

I scrambled up. "Liz?"

"They're going to send me away. Everyone knows they are, and that's why they're being so nice to me. I don't want to go, Chloe. They'll lock me up and –"She hiccupped deep breaths, hands cupped over her mouth. When she looked at me, her eyes were so wide the whites showed around her dark irises. "I know you haven't been here long, but I really need your help."

"Okay."

"Really?"

I stifled a yawn as I say up. "If there's anything I can do –"

"There is. Thank you. Thank you." She dropped to her knees and pulled a bag from under her bed. "I don't know what all you need, but I did one at a sleepover last year, so I gathered up everything we used. There's a glass, some spices, a candle –"Her hand flew to her mouth. "Matches! Oh, no. We don't have any matches. They keep them locked up because of Rae. Can we do it without lighting the candle?"

"Do what?" I rubbed my hands over my face. I hadn't taken a sleeping pill but still felt that weird fogginess, like I was swimming in a sea of cotton balls. "What exactly are we doing? Liz?"

"A séance, of course."

The sleep fog evaporated, and I wondered if this was a prank. But I could tell by her expression that it wasn't. I remembered Tori's words at lunch.

"The…poltergeist?" I said carefully.

Liz flew at me so fast I smacked into the wall, hands flying up to ward her off. But she only pounced down beside me, eyes wild.

"Yes!" She said. "I have a poltergeist. It's so obvious, but they won't see it. They keep saying it's me doing all this stuff. But how could I throw a pencil that hard? Did anyone see me throw it? No. I get mad at Ms. Wang and the pencil flies and hits her and everyone says, 'Oh, Liz threw it,' but I didn't. I never do."

"It's the…poltergeist."

"Right! I think it's trying to protect me because every time I get mad, things start flying. I've tried to talk to it, to make it stop. But it can't hear me because I can't talk to ghosts. That's why I need you."

I struggled to keep my expression neutral. I'd seen a documentary on poltergeist activity once. It usually _did_ happen around girls like Liz – troubled teens desperate for attention. Some people thought the girls were playing pranks. Others believed the energy the girls gave off –hormones and rage – actually made things move.

"You don't believe me," she said.

"No, I didn't say –"

"You don't _believe_ me!" She rose to her knees, eyes blazing. "Nobody believes me!"

"Liz, I –"

Behind her, the hair gel bottles rocked. Empty hangers in the closet chattered. I dug my hands into the mattress. To my left, I saw the door open, but I didn't dare look over to see who it was.

"O-o-okay, Liz. I s-s-see –"

"No, you _don't_!"

As she slammed her hands down, I saw movement from the doorway and felt myself being pushed back. As the bottles jetted into the air, I felt strong arms wrap around me and my hands shot forward and grabbed onto their thin t-shirt, as the bottles flew forward toward me, I pulled myself to the source of the arms and buried my head in their chest. I felt them tense as the bottle hit them and exploded. The rest of the bottles hit the wall behind me and, when they exploded, sprayed over my back.

"Oh, no!" Liz said. "I'm so sorry."

Her hands flew up and a picture leaped from the wall. It flew forward and I heard a grunt of pain as the arms tensed again. I knew that grunt. Derek. As I lifted my head to look at his face, two more pictures flew. The first hit Derek's back again. The second hit the nightstand and sent glass flying. Derek's arms tightened around me. Some glass flew behind me, into the wall. One piece hit a picture behind me and ricocheted into my arm.

A minute passed, but nothing else flew. Derek's arms fell and he pulled back, standing up. I looked up at Liz.

"I'm so sorry," She gasped. "I didn't mean -. Do you see what happens? I can't control it. I get mad and everything –"

She was cut off by the door slamming open. Mrs. Talbot's bath robed form stood silhouetted in the doorway. She flipped on the light. I drew back, blinking.

"Oh my god," She breathed, barely above a whisper. "Elizabeth. What have you done?"

I jumped to my feet. "It wasn't her. I –I –I –"

For once, I wasn't stammering. I just couldn't think of more words. As her gaze swept across the room, Derek slid out behind her. She didn't seem to notice he was ever there.

She picked her way past me, eyes fixed on the glass on both the floor and the wall.

"No," Liz whispered. "Please no. I didn't mean it."

"It's okay, hon. We're going to get you help."

Miss Van Dop strode in, carrying a needle. She seduced Liz as Mrs. Talbot tried to calm her, telling her they were only transferring her to a better hospital, one more suitable, one that could get her well faster.

When Liz was unconscious, they shooed me from the room. As I backed into the hallway, a hand walloped me in the back, slamming me into the wall. I turned to see Tori looming over me.

"What did you do to her?" she snarled.

"Nothing." To my shock, the word came out clear, defiant even. I pulled myself straight. "I'm not the one who told her I could help."

"Help?"

"By contacting her poltergeist."

Her eyes went wide, with that same horrified expression as when Simon glared at her. She turned and stumbled into her room.

**Sorry, you don't get to find out about Derek until the next chapter, but if I can get at least 15 reviews, I will post is early.**


	7. Are You Okay?

**Okay everyone. I got 9 out of 15 reviews, so at least that's over half. This chapter is shorter than the last one, and I'm a little disappointed in it. Tell me what you think.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Darkest Powers**

**This one is the beginning of chapter 10 of The Summoning**

The paramedics came for Liz. I watched her go, asleep on the stretcher, just like I'd been taken from school. Deluxe transportation for crazy kids.

Miss Van Dop insisted I take half of a sleeping pill. I gave in, but when she tried to follow it with an extra dose of my ant hallucination medicine, I hid that pill under my tongue.

I hadn't seen or heard anything since lunchtime. While that might have been the meds kicking in, I couldn't help hoping Rae's wild theory was right – that my "break with reality" was only a temporary mental vacation, brought on by stress and hormones. With any luck, I was already making the return trip to sanity.

I need to test that theory. So I'd save the pill and, if I saw anything, I'd take it.

I offered to help clean the room, but Mrs. Talbot took me downstairs for a glass of milk, then settled my on the sofa.

As I began to drift off, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. Looking up, I saw Derek walking towards the direction of the stairs. I knew I should let him go. God knows he's done more that enough for me. I knew he was probably tired and sore from being pelted with flying objects. But I didn't really want to be alone right now.

"Hi," I said, quietly.

He jumped; afraid he had been caught out of bed. Turning around, he saw me sitting on the couch, cradling a cup of milk. He relaxed and said, "Hi."

"What were you doing?" I asked.

"Snack," he said.

"Oh," I said, turning and looking at the cup in my hands. As I stared at the milk sloshing in my glass, my mind began to wander. The sloshing milk became waves crashing to shore. I was five years old again. My short legs running across the shore. My mother chasing me, laughing.

"Chloe?"

I jumped. Looking up, I saw Derek standing in front of me.

"What was the question?" I asked, fighting sleep.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Okay?" I asked.

"Upstairs," he said, "With Liz."

"Oh," I said, the earlier events rushing back, "I-I'm fine."

"You sure?" he asked.

"Uh huh," I said quietly.

"How's your arm?"

"My…arm?" I looked down at the arm that was hit with the piece of glass. The cut had stopped bleeding, but the blood had dripped down, leaving a red streak down to my elbow. The cut throbbed dully, reminding me it was there.

"It's fine," I lied.

He nodded. His hands in his pockets, he leaned back, rocking on his heels.

"Are _you_ okay?" I asked him.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he asked.

"Well, you were the one hit with almost everything," I said.

"Oh…um, yeah, I'm fine," he said.

"Good," I said, looking back down at my hands. After sitting in silence a few minutes, I thought hit me.

"Why did you come to our room?" I asked, looking up.

He looked up. "I was going to the kitchen. I heard Liz shouting. I knocked, but nobody answered. I was going to tell you that Talbot might hear, but then the bottles started flying."

"Oh," I said. "Thank you."

"For what?" he asked.

"For blocking the flying objects." I explained.

"Oh," he said. "Uh…you're welcome." He seemed uncomfortable.

As I opened my mouth, his head jerked up. I turned my head in the direction of his eyes. I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. I turned to Derek. Nodding, he silently fled to the boys' stairs before Mrs. Talbot saw him. As he turned the corner, I said, quietly, "Good night."

When I got back up to my room, I automatically went to my bed. As soon as my head hit my pillow, I was sucked back to that day on the beach.


	8. Something Happened

**Okay everyone. So sorry about the wait, but it was deer hunting and my attention was on something else. But I am back to bring you a new chapter, so, yay! Also, to make up for the wait, I will be writing a Thanksgiving special for everyone. But I will not post it until then (that is November 25 for anybody who didn't know.)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Darkest Powers**

**This one is from chapter 11 of The Summoning**

Rae was in session with Dr. Gill for the first part of the morning. When she returned, I spent the rest of the class eagerly awaiting break time, so I could talk to her. Not about Liz and my fears. Just talk to her. About class, about last night's movie, the weather…anything that would clear Liz from my mind.

But she was having problems with a worksheet, and Ms. Wang made her stay through break. So I promised to grab her a snack, then trudged out, heading for the kitchen, sentenced to another hour or two trapped in my own mind, thinking about Liz.

"Hey," Simon jogged up beside me in the hall. "You okay? You seemed quiet this morning."

I managed a wan smile. "I'm always quiet."

"Yeah, but after last night, you have an excuse. Probably didn't get much sleep, huh?"

I shrugged.

Simon reached for the kitchen door. A hand appeared over my head and grabbed it for him. I didn't jump this time, just glanced back, and murmured a good morning to Derek. He grunted a morning in reply.

Simon headed into the pantry. Derek stayed in the kitchen, watching me. His eyes moved over my face, taking in the dark circles under my eyes.

"What?" I asked, softly.

His eyes flickered behind me. I turned and saw the fruit bowl. I reached behind me and grabbed an apple. Turning back around, I handed Derek the apple.

"Thanks," he grunted.

"So what happened last night?" Simon asked from the pantry.

"Um," I said, confused. Didn't Derek tell him?

Simon stepped from the pantry, a box of granola bars in hand.

"You should have an apple," Derek said, "That's not –"

"I'm good, bro."

He flipped one granola bar to Derek, then held out the box for me. I took two, with thanks, and turned to leave.

"Might help if you talk about it," Simon called after me.

I turned back, Simon was unwrapping his granola bar, gaze averted, trying to look casual. I looked over at Derek, seeing if he was going to explain. He was leaned back against the counter, his gaze down to his apple as he picked at the sticker.

I'd never been one for gossip. Maybe that's not what Simon wanted – maybe he was just curious, concerned even. But it felt like gossip, and Liz deserved better.

"Rae's waiting for me," I said.

Simon stepped forward, raising a hand as if to stop me. Then he glanced at Derek. I didn't catch the look that passed between them, but it made Simon pull back, nod a good-bye to me, and busy himself unwrapping the rest of his bar.

The door was still swinging shut behind me when Simon whispered, "Something happened."

"Yeah."

I let the door close, and stood there. Derek said something else, but his low rumble swallowed the words.

"I don't know," Simon said. "Maybe we should –"

"Chloe?"

I wheeled as Mrs. Talbot stepped into the hall from the living room.

"Is Peter around?" she asked. Her broad face was beamed.

"Uh, in class I think."

"Could you tell him I need to see him in the living room? I have a surprise for him."

I glanced at the kitchen doors, but the guys had gone silent. I nodded to Mrs. Talbot and hurried off.


	9. Is That Who You Saw?

**Okay everybody. I know that I have been really lazy, but now I'm back. And I bring you a new chapter, so yay! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Darkest Powers**

After lunch, it was time for math. That was one class where the tutor needed to know exactly where I was in the program and my math teacher hadn't sent over my work yet, so I was allowed to skip it for now. Math was also the class Derek had been sitting out the day before, and he did so again, taking his course work into the dining room as Ms. Wang gave a short lesson. I guessed he was doing remedial work and needed the quiet. I wanted to talk to him about what he had told Simon about last night, but I decided to wait for later. So, he went his way and I went mine, into the media room to write that e-mail to Kari.

Getting the words right took time. The third version finally seemed vague but not like I was obviously avoiding anything. I was about to hit Send when I stopped.

I was using a communal account. What would come up in the sender field? Lyle Group Home for Mentally Disturbed Teens? I was sure it wouldn't be _that_, but even just "Lyle House" would throw Kari off, maybe enough for her to look it up.

I switched to the browser and searched for "Lyle House." Over a million hits. I added "Buffalo" and that cut my hits in half, but a scan of the first page showed they were just random hits – a mention of a house on Lyle in Buffalo, a list of love songs including the words "house" and "buffalo," a House representative named Lyle talking about Buffalo Lake.

I moved my mouse over the Send button again, and stopped again.

Just because Lyle House didn't have a cheerful Web site with a daisy border didn't mean Kari couldn't find it in the phone book.

I saved the e-mail as a text document with an obscure name. Then I deleted the message. At least with a phone call, I could probably block call display. There were no telephones in the common area, so I'd have to ask to use the nurses' phone. I'd do that later, when Kari would be home from school.

I shut down Outlook and was about to turn off the browser when a search result caught my eye – one about a Buffalo man named Lyle who'd died in a house fire.

I remembered what Rae had said last night about looking up mu burned custodian, here was my chance to settle the battle between the side that said _you're hallucinating – take your meds and shut up_ and the side that wasn't so sure.

I moused to the search field, deleted the words, then sat there, fingers poised over the keys, every muscle tensed, as if bracing for and electric shock.

_What was I afraid of?_

_ Finding out I really did have schizophrenia?_

_ Or finding out I didn't?_

I lowered my fingers to the keys and typed. _A.R. Gurney school arts Buffalo death custodian._

Thousands of hits, most of them random matches to A. R. Gurney, the Buffalo playwright. Then I saw the words _tragic accident_ and I knew.

I forced my mouse up the screen, clicked, and read the article.

In 1991, forty-one-year-old Rod Stinson, head custodian at Buffalo's A. R. Gurney School of the Arts, had died in a chemical explosion. A freak accident, caused by a part-time janitor refilling a container with the wrong solution.

He'd died before I'd been born. So there was no way I could have ever heard about the accident.

But just because I couldn't' remember hearing about it didn't mean I hadn't caught a snatch of it, maybe someone talking in class, and stored it deer in mu subconscious, for schizophrenia to pull out and reshape as a hallucination.

I scanned the article. No picture. I backed out to the search page and went to the next. Same basic information, but this one did have a picture. And there was no question it was the man I'd seen.

Had I seen the photo somewhere?

_You have an answer for everything, don't you? A "logical explanation." Well, what would you think if you were seeing this in one of your movies?_

I'd run the screen and smack this silly girl who was staring the truth in the face, too dumb to see it. No, not too dumb. Too stubborn.

_You want a logical explanation? String the facts together. The scenes._

Scene one: girl hears disembodied voices and sees a boy who disappears before her eyes.

Scene two: she sees a dead guy with some kind of burns.

Scene three: she discovers that the burned custodian is real and died in her school, just the way she saw it.

_Yet this girl, our supposedly intelligent heroine, doesn't believe she's seeing ghosts? Give it a shake._

Still I resisted. As much as I loved the world of cinema, I knew the difference between reality and story. In movies, there are ghosts and aliens and vampires, even someone who doesn't believe in extraterrestrials can sit in a movie theater, see the protagonists struggling with clues that suggest alien invasion, and want to scream "Well, duh!"

But in real life, if you tell people you're being chased by melted school custodians, they don't say "Wow, you must be seeing ghosts." They put you someplace like this.

I stared at the picture. There could be no question –

"Is that who you saw?"

I spun in my chair with a yelp. Derek was there at my shoulder. For someone his size, he could move so quietly I'd think _he_ was a ghost. Just as silent.

As I caught my breath, struggling to get enough air to form words, he pointed to the headline over the janitor's article. "A. R. Gurney. That's your school. You saw that guy, didn't you?" He wasn't being nosy. While he kept his face blank, he let a little concern accompany the question.

"Um…I-I-," I stuttered. I tried thinking of some excuse so that he wouldn't think I was crazy, but I came up empty. Turning around, I clicked off the browser. "I was doing schoolwork. For when I get back. A project."

"On what? 'People who died at my school?'" He asked, his eyebrows rising, and his mouth twitched in a small smile.

My face turned bright red as I looked down at my hands in my lap. Looking up, I offered him small smile in return, failing to hide my embarrassment. Looking down at me, he seemed to be debating something.

Almost reluctantly, he asked, "You want something to research?"

As he leaned over to take the mouse, I scooted the chair over the give him more room. Seeing me scooting, he pulled his elbows in so they wouldn't stick in my face, mumbling a sorry.

He opened a fresh browser session, typed a single word, and clicked _Search._ Then he straightened.

"Try that."


	10. Necromancy

**Okay everyone. I bring you chapter 10.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Darkest Powers.**

I'd been staring at the search tem for at least five minutes. One word. _Necromancer._

Was that even English? I moved the cursor over in front of the word and typed "define." When I hit Enter, the screen filled.

Necromancer: one who practices divination by conjuring up the dead.

Divination? As in foretelling the future? By talking to dead people… from the past? That made no sense at all.

I skipped to the next definition, form Wikipedia.

_Necromancy is divination by raising the spirits of the dead. The word derives from the Greek _nekrós_ "dead" and _manteía _"divination." It has a subsidiary meaning reflected in an alternative and archaic form of the word, _nigromancy_ (a folk etymology using Latin _niger, _"black"), in which the magical force of "dark powers" is gained from or by acting upon corpses. A practitioner of necromancy is a necromancer._

I reread the paragraph three times and slowly deciphered the geek talk, only to realize it didn't tell me anything more than the first definition. On to the next one, also from Wikipedia.

_In the fictional universe of Diablo 2, the Priests of Rathma…_

Definitely not what I was looking for, but I ran a quick search and I discovered a role-playing game class called necromancers, who could raise and control the dead. Was that where Derek got it? Could he have misplaced the boundary between real life and video games? No. I might not know him very well, but even I could tell that he wasn't _that_ creepy.

I returned to Wikipedia, skimmed the rest of the definitions, and found only variations on the first. A necromancer foretells the future by talking to the dead.

Curious now, I deleted _define _and searched on _necromancer._ The first couple of sites were religious ones. According to them, necromancy was the art of communicating with the spirit world. They called it evil, a practice of black magic and Satan worship.

Did Derek think I was involved in black magic? Was he trying to save my soul? I really doubted it. He didn't seem the religious type. Or if so, at least not creepy religious.

Shaking the thought out of my head, I flipped back to the list of search results and picked one that seemed more academic. It said that necromancy was another – older – name for mediums, spiritualists, and other people who could talk to ghosts. The meaning came from an ancient belief that if you could talk to the dead, they could predict the future because they could see everything – they'd know what your enemy was doing or where you could find buried treasure.

I switched to the next site on the list, and a horrible painting filled my screen – a mob of dead people, rotting and hacked up, being led by a guy with glowing eyes and an evil grin. The title: _The Army of the Dead._

I scrolled down the page. It was filled with stuff like that, men surrounded by zombies.

I quickly switched to another page. It described the "art of necromancy" as the raising of the dead. I shuddered and flipped to another. A religious site now, quoting some old book ranting about "foul necromancers" who committed crimes against nature, communicating with the spirits and reanimating the dead.

More sites. More old engravings and paintings. Grotesque pictures of grotesque men. Raising corpses. Raising spirits. Raising demons.

Fingers trembling, I turned off the browser.

I walked from the media room, my attention elsewhere. All I could think about were those pictures. As I walked by the dining room, I heard the deep rumble of Derek's voice. Not expecting it, I jumped, looking around. Seeing nothing, I looking into the dining room. Derek was asking Mrs. Talbot when Dr. Gill would be ready to see him. Not wanting to interrupt the conversation, I hurried into class. They weren't done with math yet, and Ms. Wang waved for me to take a seat next to the door.

When the lesson finally ended, Derek lumbered in. Watching him take his regular seat next to Simon, I thought of how to get time later to talk to him. I watched him and Simon talking, their heads together as they talked low to each other.

Tori joined us for dinner – in body, at least. She spent the meal practicing for a role in the next zombie movie, expressionless, methodically moving fork to mouth, sometimes even with food on it. I was torn between feeling sorry for her and just being creeped out.

I wasn't the only one left uncertain. Rae tensed with every mouthful, as if waiting for "old Tori" to leap out and jab her about eating. Simon gamely tried to carry on a conversation with me and tentatively slanted questions Tori's way, as if afraid she was just playing possum, looking for sympathy.

After that endless meal, we all fled, gratefully, to our chores – Rae and I on dinner cleanup, the guys on garbage and recycling detail. Later Rae had a project to work on, and Ms. Wang had warned the nurses that she wanted Rae to do it without help.

So after telling Miss Van Dop that I'd be right back, I headed up to my room for my iPod. When I opened the door, I found a folded note on the floor.

_Chloe, _

_ We need to talk. Meet me in the laundry room at 7:15._

_ Simon_

I folded the note into quarters. Why had Simon sent me a note? And what did he want to talk about?


	11. Which Did You Mean?

**Okay everyone. I was a little disappointed in the amount of reviews, or lack thereof, but thanks everyone who did review!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Darkest Powers**

I went downstairs just past six thirty, and used the extra time to ghost hunt, prowling the laundry room, listening and looking. The one time I wanted to see or hear a ghost, I didn't.

Could I contact it? Or was it a one-way street, and did I have to wait until one chose to speak to _me_? I wanted to test that by calling out, but Derek had already caught me talking to myself. I wasn't taking that risk Simon as well.

So I just wandered, my mind automatically sliding behind a camera lens.

"…here…" a voice whispered, so soft and dry it sounded like the wind through long grass. "…talk to …"

It cut off there. As much as I tried to hear it again, I couldn't. Sighing, I turned to look around to room. Seeing the recliner in the corner, I decided to sit and wait for Simon. I walked over and when I sat down, I immediately sank into the cushion. Leaning back, the sleep I missed the night before started to catch up with me. Deciding I had time before Simon showed up, I drifted off into sleep. The scene from my last dream played out again. My mother was chasing me on the shore of the beach. My blond hair was whipping in the wind, hitting my face, but I didn't care. Turning my head to look at my mother, I could see that she was gaining on me, her smile growing as she got closer. Gasping, I sped up, but I was not fast enough. From behind me, I felt her grab onto me and lift me up. Twirling me around, she walked out into the water. I held onto her, afraid to go into the cold water.

"Mommy, no," I said, squirming.

"It's okay Chloe. It's just water, I won't hurt you," she said.

"Mommy, no, it's too cold," I said.

"Chloe, it's okay," the voice changed, deeper. Hands started shaking me lightly. "Chloe."

"Mom?" I said, jerking awake.

"It's me," the voice said.

Looking up, I saw Derek's face looming over me, his hands on my shoulder. Searching my face, he let go of me and backed up a step. Rubbing my face, I looked up at him.

"What are you doing here?" I asked softly.

"Meeting you," he said.

"But I thought…" I mumbled. Then it dawned on me. "You sent the note didn't you?"

"Yeah," he said.

"Why did you sign Simon's name?" I asked, confused.

"The nurses," he said, simply. When I looked even more confused, he explained. "If the nurses found the note before you and saw that I had signed it, they would know that something was off. If they found it and saw that Simon signed it, they would just think it was him trying to get you to like him."

"Oh. That makes sense," I said. Looking down at my hands, I sat there in the awkward silence that followed.

"So," he started, making me jump.

"What?" I asked.

"Did you look it up?" he asked, looking a little uncomfortable.

"You mean that word? _Nec –"_I pursed my lips, testing it. "_Necromancer?_ Is that how you say it?"

Giving a small nod, he repeated, "Did you look it up?"

"I did." I said, simply.

"And…?" he said.

"Which did you mean?" I asked.

His eyebrows lacing together in confusion, he said, "What?"

"Did you mean the computer games?"

"Computer games?"

"Video games."

His lips parted, eyes rounding as he understood. "No, I didn't mean that."

"So the other thing then. The ghosts?"

"Yeah," he mumbled.

Nodding, I looked back down at my hands. Looking back up, I said, "And the pictures?"

An apologetic look flashing over his face, he opened his mouth to speak. Before he could get a word out, though, a voice upstairs called for me. Rae. Hearing her turn the handle to the basement, I tried to get up, getting my feet tangled in the process. As I flew forward, Derek grabbed onto my forearm before I could hit the floor. Trying to pull me to my feet, he pulled too hard and I flew across the room, crashing into a heap. From above me, Derek's shadow loomed. Reaching for me, he said, "Chloe, I'm sorry."

Nodding, I grabbed his hand and even after I was standing, I held his arm, catching my breath.

"It wasn't your fault," I said. Letting go of his arm, I grabbed my sleeve and pulled up. I saw a red mark for each of his fingers. Yanking down my sleeve before he could see it, I looked up at him. As I opened my mouth, I heard Rae upstairs say "Chloe?"

Nodding to Derek, I walked up the stairs and opened to the door to upstairs. When I got to Rae, she said, "I need your help."

"With what?" I asked.

"I want to look at Simon and Derek's files and I need your help to get them."

"Okay," I said, not knowing what I was getting myself into.


	12. He's Not That Bad

**Okay, everyone. I would like to thank those who reviewed and have stuck with the story. I have come to realize that my other story is more popular. That is a surprise to me.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Darkest Powers**

**To clear up any future confusion, I skipped the part with Chloe and Rae asking to move Rae into Chloe's room. **

"So, who are you checking on?" I asked Rae as we moved her into my room.

"Both Simon and Derek, but mostly Derek," she responded as she folded one of her shirts and put in away.

"Why?" I asked, tossing her another shirt.

"Well, Simon seems fine on the outside, but he's stuck in here, so he must have something wrong. I just want to know what it is," she said.

"It's probably not something big," I said, putting a shirt away.

"But you never know. Plus, I think you should know more for when he asks you out," she said.

"What!" I asked, dropping the pile of clothes in my arms onto the floor.

"What?" she asked, completely oblivious.

"What do you mean when he asks me out?" I asked.

"It's obvious that he likes you, and I guess you might make a cute couple," she said, turning back to her stuff.

"But I don't –"I started.

"Hey, you like him. That's fine." She opened Liz's bottom drawer. It was empty – every trace of her cleaned out while we'd been in class. "I don't care for the guy, but that's just my opinion. Maybe he's stuck up with me because I'm not in his league."

"League?"

She held up a pair of jeans and pointed to the label. "You see anyone else in this place wearing jeans from Wal Mart? It's a private home. You gotta pay for it, and I bet it costs more than Motel 6. I'm the designated charity case."

"I –"

"It's cool. You treat me fine. So did Peter and –"a somber look around her new room "–Liz. Derek's a jerk to everyone, so I don't take it personally. If I'm only getting the cold shoulder from Simon and Tori, I can live with it. That's why I those two are perfect for each other, but if you like him and he likes you? That's fine. That's why I think you should run I background check."

She headed back to her old room, me at her heels. "My friend's mom did that with a guy she was supposed to marry. Found out he had three kids he never mentioned." She grinned over her shoulder. "I'm pretty sure Simon doesn't have kids, but you never know."

As we finished clearing her drawers, I considered letting her think I liked Simon. I couldn't hurt if she thought that. It's not like I'm going to go chasing after the guy, but if she thought so, that was her choice.

"Why are you checking on Derek?" I asked.

"He's creepy and a jerk. I want to see what he's in for and maybe get a little leverage on the guy," she explained.

"He's not that bad," I said as I grabbed a pair of her jeans and started folding them.

As she turned, she looked like she was going to say something and she stopped when she saw the look on my face. "Derek? You like –"

"What? No, I didn't mean it that way," I said.

She exhaled and leaned against the wall. "Thank God. I know some girls go for the jerks, but that's just nasty." She flushed as she took the picture from me and reached for another. "I shouldn't say that. It's not his fault, the whole…" she faltered for a word.

"Puberty smackdown."

A grin. "Exactly. I should feel sorry for the guy, but it's hard when his attitude is as ugly as his face."

I kept my mouth shut. Just because he hadn't been that much of a jerk to me didn't mean he hadn't been a jerk to her.

"What does he do?" I asked.

"Besides the ignoring and rude remarks?" she asked, taking down more pictures.

"Does he have a history of that?"

"Depends on what _that_ is. Being rude, yes. A jerk, yes. He ignores us except when he doesn't have a choice and, believe me, no one complains."

"Does he follow you and pop up when your alone?" I asked, just checking.

"No, does he to you?" she asked.

"A little," I said, reluctantly. I didn't want to give her anything else she could hold against him.

"Ah, he likes you." She handed me a photo to hold.

"No, it isn't like that."

"Uh-huh. Well, you'd probably rather it _wasn't _like that, but sure sounds like it. Maybe you're his type. At my school, there's this guy I like, on the basketball team. He's even taller than Derek, but he always goes for tiny girls like you."

I took another photo from her."That's not it."

"Well when he makes his attraction known, I told you so." She said, grabbing the last photo from the wall.

Sighing, I decided to ignore her theory. There was no way that he could like me. And his popping up unexpectantly must just be coincidence.


	13. We Were Getting A Snack

**Okay everyone, I'm really sorry for the long wait. It's my last day for break I was being really lazy. And I had my wisdom teeth taken out on Thursday so I've been recovering. Anyway, thanks to everybody who reviewed. I'm not getting as many as before, so thanks to those who stuck with it. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Darkest Powers**

Bedtime at Lyle House was at nine, with the lights out and no-talking rule coming into effect an hour later when the nurses retired.

Each side of the upper level had a bedroom for its assigned nurse. Liz had said there was no door linking the boys' and girls' areas, but according to Rae, there was one between the nurses' rooms, which gave them quick access to the whole upper floor in an emergency.

So while Rae swore Mrs. Talbot was a quick and sound sleeper, we had to take Miss Van Dop into account, too. An early break-in was too risky. Rae set the alarm on her sports watch for 2:30 and we went to sleep.

At 2:30, the house was still and silent. Too still and too silent. Every creaking floorboard sounded like a gunshot. And in an old house, _most _boards creak.

Rae followed me into the kitchen, where we took two juice boxes from the fridge and set them on the counter. Then I opened the pantry door, turned on the light, and returned to the hall, leaving both doors half open.

Dr. Gill's office was at the west end, near the boys' stairs. Rae checked out the lock a week ago. It was only a regular interior key lock, not much tougher than the kind you could pick with a coin. Or so she said. I'd never had any reason to open a household lock – probably because I didn't have siblings. So I watched and took mental notes. All part of gaining life experience.

Rae had watched Dr. Gill get her file out once, during her session, so she knew where they were kept. The office has an all-in-one printer, which made things easy. I stood guard. She was the one who wanted them, so I let her copy. The only hitch was when she copied the pages, the _swoosh-shoosh_ of the scanner head was loud enough to make me nervous. But the files must have been short because by the time I looked in, she was returning them to the folder, copies made.

She passed me two sheets, folded in half, then she returned the files to the drawer. We backed out the room. As she reengaged the lock, the unmistakable sound of a creaking floorboard made us both freeze. A long moment of silence passed. A fresh creak. Someone was coming down the boys' stairs.

We took off, padding barefooted down the hall. At the half-open kitchen door, we darted inside, then into the open pantry.

"Come on," I stage-whispered. "Just pick something already."

"I can't find the Rice Krispie bars. I know there were some last week."

"The guys probably –" I stopped, then hissed. "Someone's coming. Get the light."

She flipped the switch as I closed the door all but a crack. As I peered through the gap, Derek stopped inside the kitchen door. Seeing that it was only him, a relaxed a little. He left the light off as he looked around, moonbeams from the kitchen casting a glow on his face. His gaze swept the kitchen and came to a rest on the pantry door.

I pushed it open and stepped out.

"Cracker?" I said, holding up a box.

He looked at me, and raised an eyebrow, silently questioning me. Instead of telling him, I just smiled, unconvincingly, and held the box out for him to take if he wanted. I personally saw no need to keep it a secret from him, but I'm sure Rae did, so I didn't say anything. He reached out and grabbed the box, pulling out a cracker sleeve.

"We were getting a snack," Rae said.

He kept watching me, his eyebrow rising again.

"I'll get the juice," Rae said, squeezing past.

Derek looked over at the boxes we'd left on the counter. Proof that we'd only been raiding the kitchen. It had been my plan, and I thought it was so clever, but as his gaze swung back my way, I knew he didn't buy it.

I stepped forward, following Rae out of the kitchen. Stepping aside, he let me pass. Before I got past him, he held out the cracker sleeve he had grabbed out of the box. "Forgot these."

"Right. Thanks."

Smiling softly back at him, I took it and followed Rae into the hall. Derek followed us out, carrying his own sleeve, but he headed the other way, towards the boys' side. When I turned to go up the stairs, I glanced down the hall. He'd stopped outside Dr. Gill's office and stood looking at the door.

We lay in bed with the lights out for fifteen minutes, long enough for Derek to either tell the nurses on us or just go to back to bed. My fingers kept brushing the pages I'd stuffed in my pajama waistband. Finally, Rae scooted over to my bed, flashlight in hand.

"That was a close call," she said.

"Do you think he'll tell the nurses?"

"nah. He was getting a snack himself. He wouldn't dare tattle."

So Derek had just happened to get up for a snack while we were breaking into Dr. Gill's office? I hated coincidence, but surely the printer hadn't made enough noise for him to fear it upstairs.

I pulled the sheets out and smoothed them on the mattress.

"That's Derek's," Rae whispered as she turned on the flashlight.

Holding out the two pages, I said, "You can have both of theirs."

She shook her head. "That's Derek's second page. There wasn't one for Simon."

"You couldn't find it?"

"No, there _wasn't_ one. The dividers in the drawer are marked with our names, then the file folders are marked again. There wasn't a divider or a file for Simon."

"That's –"

"Weird, I know. Maybe, they keep it someplace else. Anyway, I wanted Derek's the most, so I figured I shouldn't waste time searching for Simon's. Now, let's see what Frankenstein is in for." She moved the beam to the top of the page. "Derek Souza. Birth date, blah blah blah."

She shifted the light to the next section. "Huh. He was brought to Lyle House by a children's service agency. No mention of that father they're always talking about. If child services is involved, then you can bet he's no dad of the year. Oh, here it is. Diagnosis…antisocial personality disorder." She snorted a laugh. "Yeah? Tell me something I didn't know. Is that really the illness? Being rude? What kind of meds do they give you for that?"

"I don't know."

She grinned. "Whatever it is, they aren't working. No wonder he's been stuck here so long –"

The hall light clicked on. Rae dove for her bed, leaving the flashlight behind. I turned it off as the bathroom door closed. When I made a motion to toss it to her, she shook her head, then leaned out and whispered, "You read them. I don't want to waste my time if there's nothing interesting. If you find anything, tell me in the morning."

Whoever was in the bathroom – Tori or Mrs. Talbot – seemed to take forever. By the time the toilet flushed, Rae was asleep. I waited a few minutes, then relaxed. Looking down at the pages, I didn't really want to read them. It wasn't my business, but Rae wanted me to read them for her, so I turned the flashlight and read.

With each sentence, I became more and more confused. Antisocial personality disorder had nothing to do with being rude. It meant someone who showed a complete disregard for others, who lacked the ability to empathize – to put himself in another person's shoes. The disorder was characterized by a violent temper and fits of rage, which only made it worse. If you didn't understand that you were hurting someone, what would make you stop?

I flipped to the second page, labeled "background."

Performing a standard background check on DS has proved difficult. No birth certificate or other identifying records could be found. They likely exist, but the lack of concrete information on his early life makes a proper search impossible. According to DS and his foster brother, SB, Derek came to live with them at approximately five years of age. DS does not recall – or refused to share – the details of his life before this, though his responses suggest he may have been raised in an institutional setting.

Simon's father, Christopher Bae, appears to have taken de facto custody of DS, with no record of a formal adoption or fostering arrangement. The boys were enrolled in school as "Simon Kim" and "Derek Brown." The reason for the false names is not known.

School records suggest DS's behavioral problems began in seventh grade. Never an outgoing or cheerful child, he became increasingly sullen, his withdrawal punctuated by bouts of misplaced anger, often culminating in violent outbursts.

Violent outbursts…

The incident in the basement could be seen as violent to some people, but he had only been helping me up.

No incidents have been properly documented, making a complete forensic study of the disorder's progression impossible. DS seems to have avoided expulsion or other serious disciplinary action until an altercation described by witnesses as "a normal school yard fight." DS violently attacked three youths in what officers suspected was a chemically fueled rage. An adrenaline surge may also explain the display of extraordinary strength reported by witnesses. By the time authorities interceded, one youth had suffered spinal fractures. Medical experts fear he may never walk again.

The single-spaced page of background detail continued, but the words vanished. I had a hard time believing what I had read on the page. The incident with the fight may have been true, but the reasons behind it didn't sound right. Chemically fueled rage? I may not know Derek that well, but I knew that wasn't true.

I shoved the pages under my mattress. I didn't need to read the rest. I knew what they would say. That he was being medicated. That he was being rehabilitated. That he was cooperating and had shown no signs of violence while at Lyle House. That his condition was under control.

Shutting off the flashlight, I laid my head down on the pillow and fell asleep.


	14. It Was Nothing

**Okay everyone, thanks to everyone who reviewed. And I'm gonna try to do weekly updates, probably on Saturdays. Anyway, I now bring you chapter 14.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Darkest Powers**

When the wake-up rap came at the door, I buried my head under the pillow. Last night's little adventure had left me more tired than usual.

"Chloe?" Mrs. Talbot opened the door. "You need to get dressed before you come down today. Your aunt is coming by at eight to take you out to breakfast. You need to be ready for her."

I released my death grip on the pillow and got up.

* * *

"You're mad at me, aren't you, Chloe?"

I stopped moving my scrambled eggs around my plate and looked up. Worry clouded Aunt Lauren's face. Dark half-moons under each eye said she hadn't been getting enough sleep. I'd missed those smudges earlier, hidden under her makeup until we got under the fluorescent lights of Denny's.

"Mad about what?" I asked.

A short laugh. "Well, I don't know. Maybe because I dumped you in a group home with strangers and disappeared."

I set down my fork. "You didn't 'dump' me. The school insisted I go there and the home insisted you and Dad stay away while I adjusted. I'm not a little kid. I understand what's going on."

She exhaled, the sound loud enough to be heard over the roar of the busy restaurant.

"I have a problem," I continued. "I have to learn to deal with it, and it isn't your fault of Dad's."

She leaned forward. "It isn't yours either. You understand that, too, right? It's a medical condition. You didn't do anything to cause it."

"I know." I nibbled my toast.

"You're being very mature about this, Chloe. I'm proud of you."

I nodded and kept nibbling. Seeds from the raspberry jam crackled between my teeth.

"Oh, and I have something for you." She reached into her purse and pulled out a sandwich bag. Inside was my ruby necklace. "The nurses called the home and told me you were missing it. Your dad forgot to take it from the hospital when you left."

I took it, fingering the familiar pendant through the plastic, then passed it back. "You'll have to keep it for me. I'm not allowed to have jewelry at the home."

"Don't worry, I've already spoken to the nurses. I told them it was important to you, and they've agreed to let you have it."

"Thanks."

"Make sure you wear it, though. We don't want it going missing again."

I took the necklace out of the bag and put it on. I knew it was a silly superstition, but it did make me feel better. Reassured, I guess. A reminder of Mom and something I'd been wearing so many years that I'd felt a little odd without it.

"I can't believe your father left it at the hospital," she said, shaking her head. "God only knows when he would have remembered, now that he's jetted off again."

Yes, my dad was gone. He'd called me on Aunt Lauren's cell phone to explain that he'd had to leave for Shanghai last night on an emergency business trip. She was furious with him, but I couldn't see how it mattered when I was living at the group home. He'd already arranged to take a month off when I got out, and I'd rather he was around then.

My aunt talked about her plan for a "girls' New York trip" when I was released. I didn't have to heart to tell her I'd rather just go home, see Dad, hang out with my friends. Getting back to my normal life would be the best post – Lyle House celebration I could imagine.

My normal life…

I thought of the ghosts. Would my life ever be normal again? Would _I _ever be normal again?

My gaze tripped over the landscape of faces. Was anyone here a ghost? How would I know?

What about that guy in the back wearing a heavy metal shirt, looking like he'd just stepped off the set of VH1's _I Love the 80's?_ Or the old woman with long gray hair and a tie-dyed shirt? Or even the guy in the suit, waiting by the door? Unless someone smacked into them, how would I know they weren't ghosts, just waiting for me to notice them?

I lowered my gaze at my orange juice.

_Oh, there's a plan, Chloe. Spend the rest of your life avoiding eye contact._

"So, how are you adjusting? Getting along with the other kids?"

"Uh huh," I answered, having nothing else to say.

"That's good," she said. She continued on about how the home was just what I needed and that I would be out soon. The steam coming from my eggs reminded me of how hot it was in the restaurant. Grabbing my sleeve, I rolled it up. Hearing a soft gasp, I looked up at Aunt Lauren, who was looking at my arm. Looking over, I cringed. I had forgotten about the bruises.

"What happened?" her hand gripped her fork and knife, as if ready to wield them against whoever was responsible.

"It's noth – "

"Don't tell me it's nothing. Who gave you those bruises?"

"No one," I said, trying to sound convincing.

"Who is it?" she waved off the server tentatively approaching with her coffeepot. "Don't roll your eyes at me, Chloe. You're at a home to rest, and if someone's hurting you –"

"It was nothing," I said, hoping she would drop it.

"You have bruises, so there is something wrong. Tell me who this boy is and I'll make sure he gets punished for hurting you."

"He didn't –"

"So it is a boy. Which one? There are three – no, only two now. It's the big boy, isn't it? I saw him this morning. I tried to introduce myself, but he walked away. Darren, Damian …"

I stopped myself before correcting her. She'd already tricked me into admitting it was a boy. I really wished that, just once, she'd just listen to my problems, maybe offer some advice, not leap in trying to fix everything.

"Derek," she said. "That's his name. When he ignored me this morning, Mrs. Talbot said was like that. Rude. Am I right?"

"He's fine, really. Nothing happened,"

"What did this Derek do to you, Chloe?" she said.

"Nothing," I said, desperate for her to drop the subject.

"Chloe." Her voice sharpened. "This is not something you hide. If he did anything inappropriate, I swear –"

"It wasn't like that. We were talking and I tripped and he grabbed my arm –"

"He _grabbed_ you?"

"For, like, a second. He was just – "

"I don't want you making excuses for him. Anytime someone lays an unwanted hand on you it is your right to object and to complain and …"

And so it went, through the rest of breakfast. A lecture on "inappropriate touching," like I was five years old. I didn't know why she was so upset. It's not like it was his fault. The more I argued, though, the madder she got, and I started thinking maybe this wasn't really about a boy grabbing my arm. She was angry at my dad for taking off and at my school for making me go to the group home, and because she couldn't go after them, she'd found someone she _could _go after, a problem she _could_ fix for me.

* * *

"Please, don't," I said as we sat in the car, idling in the driveway. "He didn't _do _anything. Please. It's hard enough –"

"Which is why I'm not going to make this any harder for you, Chloe. I'm not stirring up trouble; I'm just settling it down." She smiled. "Preventive medicine."

She squeezed my knee. When I looked out the window, she sighed and turned off the engine. "I promise I will be discreet. I've learned how to handle problems like this delicately, because the last thing a victim needs it to be blamed for tattling."

"I'm not a vic –"

"This Derek boy will never know who complained. Even the nurses won't know you said a word to me. I'm going to carefully raise concerns based on my own professional observations."

"Just give me a couple of days –"

"No, Chloe," she said firmly. "I'm talking to the nurses and, if necessary, to the administrators. It would be irresponsible of me not to."

I turned to face her, mouth opening to argue, but she was already out of the car.

* * *

When I returned, Tori was back. Back in class and back in attitude.

If I'd been scripting this scene, I'd have been tempted to go for a character reversal. The young woman sees her only friend taken away, partly because of a snide remark she made. When her housemates rally around, trying to lift her depression with support and concern, she realizes she hasn't lost her only friend and vows to be a kinder, gentler person.

In real life, though, people don't change overnight.

Tori started the first class by informing me that I was in Liz's seat, and I'd better not act like she wasn't coming back. Afterward, she followed Rae and me into the hall.

"Did you have a good breakfast with your auntie? Parents too busy for you, I guess?"

"I'm sure Mom would have made it. But it's kind of hard for her, being dead and all."

A great slap-down comeback. Tori didn't even blink.

"So what did you do to deserve a pass already, Chloe? Was that your reward for helping them get rid of Liz?

"She didn't –"Rae began.

"Like you're any better, _Rachelle_. You couldn't even wait until Liz's bed was cold before you bunked down with your new buddy. So, Chloe, what's with the special treatment?"

"It's not special," Rae said. "Your mom takes you out all the time. In Chloe's case, it's probably a reward for good behavior. With you, it's just because your mom's on the board of directors."

At our age, being "well behaved" isn't exactly a goal to strive for. But Tori's nostrils flared, her face twisting, as if Rae had lobbed the worst possible insult.

"Yeah?" she said. "Well, we don't see your parents coming around, do we, Rachelle? How many times have they visited or called since you've been here? Let's see … oh, right, zero." She made an O with her thumb and forefinger. "And it has nothing to do with bad behavior. They just don't care."

Rae shoved her into the wall. Tori let out an ear-shattering shriek.

"She burned me!" she said, clutching her shoulder.

"I _pushed_ you."

Ms. Wang hurried from the classroom, followed by Simon and Derek, who'd stayed behind to discuss an assignment.

"Rae burned me. She has matches or something. Look, look …" Tori pulled down the collar of her T-shirt.

"Leave your clothes on, Tori," Simon said, raising his hands to his eyes. "Please."

Derek let out a low rumble that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

Rae held up her hands. "No matches. No lighters. Nothing up my sleeve …"

"I see a very faint red mark, Tori, from being pushed," Ms. Wang said.

"She burned me! I felt it! She's hiding matches again. Search her. _Do _something."

"How about you do something, Tori?" Simon said as he brushed past us. "Like get a life."

She wheeled – not on him but on Rae - lunging at her before being grabbed by Ms. Wang. The nurses came running.

Yep, Tori was back.


	15. What Did You Say?

**Okay everyone, sorry for the wait, I have been really busy with school. Anyways, thanks to all who reviewed, I now have 83 reviews. I will update when I get 90 reviews, or next Saturday, whichever comes first. (Not this Saturday, the one after)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Darkest Powers**

I'd spent that first class braced for Miss Van Dop or Dr. Gill to stride in and yank Derek our for a "conference." I should have trusted my aunt. When we'd come back from breakfast, she'd quietly taken Mrs. Talbot aside, saying only that she wanted to discuss my progress. No one thought anything of it. And no one had burst into the class and dragged Derek out.

Tori's episode was the only bump in an otherwise quiet morning. Derek attended class and spent the time talking to Simon. He went to his session with Dr. Gill before lunch. When he came out, I was in the hall, waiting to use the bathroom. Simon was inside, as he always was before a meal. I'd never known a guy to be so conscientious about washing up before eating.

I was considering running upstairs to the girls' bathroom when Dr. Gill's door opened, and Derek's dark form filled it. I braced myself. He stepped out and looked at me. My heart pounded so hard I was sure he could hear it, just as sure I was that he'd just gotten howled out. Our eyes met. He nodded, grunted something that sounded like "hi," and was about to brush past me when the bathroom door opened.

Simon walked out, head down. He saw me and shoved something into his back pocket. "Whoop. Guess I'm hogging the bathroom again, causing lines."

"Just Chloe." Derek pushed open the door for me. He didn't seem angry at all. Nicer than normal, even. My aunt must have handled it fine. I should have known she would.

As I went inside, Simon said to Derek, "hey, lunch is this way."

"Start without me. I gotta get something from our room."

A pause. Then "Hold up," and Simon's footsteps followed Derek's up the stairs.

* * *

After lunch, it was my turn to take out the trash. Life experience, I kept telling myself as I wheeled the wagon to the shed, swatting flies buzzing in for a closer look. All life experience. You never know when I'd need a critical scene with the protagonist hauling trash.

My laugh fluttered across the yard. The sun was shining, heat beating down on my face, tree and daffodils blossoming, the faint smell of newly cut grass almost masking the stink of rotting garbage.

A pretty good start to my afternoon. Better than I'd expected –

I stopped. There, in the yard behind ours, was a ghost. A little girl, no more than four.

She had to be a ghost. She was alone in the yard, playing outside in a frilly dress – a wedding cake confection of bows and ribbons, with more ribbons wound in her corkscrew curls and more bows on her shiny patent leather shoes. She looked like Shirley Temple off an old movie poster.

I tossed the bags into the shed, where they'd be safe from marauding raccoons and skunks. The bags thumped as they hit the wooden floor, but the girl, only twenty feet away, didn't look up. I closed the shed, walked behind it to the fence, and crouched, getting closer to her level.

"Hello," I said.

She frowned, as if wondering who I was talking to.

I smiled. "Yes, I can see you. That's a pretty dress. I had one like that when I was about your age."

One last hesitant glance over her shoulder, then she sidled closer. "Mommy bought it for me."

"My mom bought mine, too. Do you like it?"

She nodded, her smile lighting up her dark eyes.

"I bet you do. I loved mine. Do –?"

"Amanda!"

The girl jumped back, landing on her rear and letting out a wail. A woman I slacks and a leather coat broke into a run, keys jingling in her hand, the back door whooshing shut behind her.

"Oh, Amanda, you got your pretty dress all dirty. I'm going to have to reschedule your special photos." The woman shot me a glare, scooping up the little girl and carrying her toward the house. "I told you not to go near that fence, Amanda. Never talk to the kids over there. _Never,_ do you hear me?"

Don't talk to the crazy kids. I longed to shoot back that we weren't crazy. I'd mistaken her kid for a ghost, that's all.

I wondered whether they had books about this sort of thing. _Fifty Ways to Tell the Living from the Dead Before You Wind Up in a Padded Room._ Yep, I'm sure the library carried that one.

I couldn't be the only person in the world who saw ghosts. Was it something I'd inherited, like blue eyes? Or was it something I'd contracted, like a virus?

There had to be others. How would I find them? Could I? Should I?

The thump of footsteps told me someone was coming. A living person. That was one lesson I'd already learned: ghosts can yell, cry, and talk, but they don't make any noise when they move.

I was still behind the shed, hidden from view. Like being in the basement, only here, no one would hear me scream.

I dashed forward just as a shadow rounded the shed. Simon.

He strode toward me, his face dark with anger. I stiffened, but stood my ground.

"What did you say?" his words came slow, deliberate, as if struggling to keep his voice steady.

"Say?"

"To the nurses. About my brother. You accused him of something."

"I didn't tell the nurses any –"

"Your aunt did, then." His fingers drummed against the shed. "You know what I'm talking about. You told her, she told the nurses, then Dr. Gill took Derek into a special conference before lunch and warned him not to bother you. If he does, they're sending him away."

"Wh-what?"

"A word from you, and he's gone. Transferred." A vein in his neck throbbed. "He's been _perfect_ since he got here. Now, all of a sudden, after one problem with you, he's put on notice. If he so much as _looks_ at you funny, he's gone."

"I –I –I –"

"Something happened with you two last night, didn't it? Derek came upstairs and he wouldn't talk to me when I asked what he was talking to you about. He just said he screwed up. That's all he'd tell me."

Simon's attitude pissed me off. He'd all but accused me of making up stories, unfairly targeting his poor, misunderstood brother.

"It was hot at the restaurant," I said. "So I rolled up my sleeves."

"What?"

I pushed my left one up, showing four bruises, dark as ink spots. Simon paled.

"My aunt wanted to know what happened. When I wouldn't tell her, she tricked me into admitting it was a boy. She met Derek this morning and he was rude, so she decided it had to be him. I never confirmed. If he's in trouble, it is _not _my fault."

"Okay, okay." He rubbed his mouth, still staring at my arm. "So, he grabbed your arm. That's what it looks like. Right? He just grabbed harder than he thought."

"He threw me across the room." I automatically cringed. I didn't mean to let that slip, but he had made me so mad.

Simon's eyes widened, then he lowered his lids to hide his surprise. "But he didn't _mean_ to."

"So that's okay? If I lose my temper and smack you, it's all right, because I didn't mean to, didn't _plan_ to." Again, I regretted the words as they left my mouth. He was just making me so mad.

"You don't understand. He just –"

"She's right." Derek's voice preceded him around the corner. He stopped behind Simon's shoulder, at least five feet from me.

"I went down to talk to her and when I tried to help her up, I pulled to hard. Simon? Let's go."

Simon shook his head. "She doesn't understand. See, Chloe, it's not Derek's fault. He's superstrong and –"

"And she wasn't wearing her kryptonite necklace," Derek said, obviously annoyed that Simon wouldn't drop it.

"That's not –"Simon began.

"Are we done yet?" Derek interrupted him.

"Derek, tell her –"

"Drop it, okay? Now let's go before something catches me with her again and I get stomped again."

"Chloe!" Mrs. Talbot's voice rang through the yard.

"Perfect timing," Derek muttered. "Must have ESP."

"Just a second," I called back, moving sideways so she could see me.

"Go on," Derek said when the back door banged shut. "If you take too long, she'll suspect something."

Nodding, I circled wide around them as I started for the door. Simon murmured something under his breath, as if to Derek.

Smoke rose in my path. I stumbled back. It hovered over the ground, like a low patch of fog.

"Simon!" Derek hissed.

I turned, pointing to the fog. "What is that?"

"What's what?" Derek said, trying to sound like he had no idea what I was talking about.

"That," I said, pointing to the fog again.

"It's nothing, Chloe," he pushed his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels.

As I opened my mouth to argue, Mrs. Talbot called me again and I turned to go. Grabbing the handle of the wagon, I wheeled it back to the house, leaving Simon and Derek by the shed.


	16. That's Magic?

**Okay, so I finally got my 90****th**** review and as a reward, you guys get a chapter early! If I can get up to 100 reviews, I will update again. If not, you guys have to wait until Saturday. And as a note to certain reviews, if I change too much, the story line changes. And if you don't like what I'm doing, don't read it!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Darkest Powers**

**I will be skipping around a little bit because the part in the book that I'm at has a lot of scenes that don't need to be changed.**

At 7:50, I was helping Rae empty the dishwasher. From the hall, I heard Simon ask if he could go out back and shoot hoops while Derek showered. Mrs. Talbot warned that it was getting dark, and he couldn't stay out for long, but she turned off the alarm and let him go. Once the dishwasher was empty, I told Rae I'd catch up with her later, then slipped out after him.

As Mrs. Talbot warned, dusk was already falling. Huge shade trees bordered the deep yard, casting even more shadow. The basketball net was on a patch of concrete beyond the reach of the porch light, and I could see only the white flash of Simon's shirt and hear the _thump-thump-thump_ of the dribbled ball. I circled the perimeter.

He didn't see me, just kept dribbling, gaze fixed on the ball, face solemn.

Keeping to the shadows, I moved closer and waited for him to see me. When he did, he jumped, as if startled, then waved me to an even darker spot on the other side of the net.

"Everything okay?" I asked. "You looked…busy."

"Just thinking." His gaze swept the fence line. "Can't wait to get out of here. Just like everyone else I guess, but…"

"Rae said you've been here awhile."

A shadow passed behind his eyes, like he was scanning his future, seeing no sign of release. At least I had someplace to go. They'd been in child services. Where would they go from here?

He bounced the ball hard and managed a smile. "Wasting our time, aren't I? I've got about ten minutes before Derek tracks me down. First off, I wanted to say I'm sorry."

"Why? You didn't do anything."

"For Derek."

"He's your brother, not your responsibility. You can't help what he does. And besides, he didn't do anything wrong. The bruises were an accident. He didn't mean to do it."

"I know, but that's all," he said.

"What else did he do?" I asked, confused.

"About the…other thing in the basement," he said, hesitantly.

"Nothing else happened, "I said, still confused.

"About what you are," he said.

"Derek really thinks that I'm a … necromancer?" I asked, barely believing what I was hearing.

"You're seeing ghosts, right? A dead guy who talked to you, chased you, asked for your help?"

"How did you –?" I stopped myself. My heart thumped, breath coming hard and fast. I'd just convinced Dr. Gill that I'd accepted my diagnosis. As much as I longed to trust Simon, I didn't dare.

"How did I know? Because that's what ghosts do to necromancers. You're the only person who can hear them, and they all have something to say. That's why they're hanging out here, in limbo or whatever." He shrugged as he tossed the ball. "I'm not real clear on the specifics. Never actually met a necromancer. I just know what I've been told."

I inhaled and exhaled before saying, as casually as I could, "I guess that makes sense. That's what you'd expect ghosts would do to people who think they can talk to the dead. Mediums, spiritualists, psychics, whatever."

He shook his head. "Yes, mediums, spiritualists, and psychics _are _people who _think_ they can talk to the dead. But necromancers _can_. It's hereditary." He smiled. "Like blond hair. You can cover it up with red streaks, but underneath, it's still blond. You can ignore the ghosts, but they'll still come. They know you can see them."

"I don't understand."

He flipped the ball and caught it on his open palm. Then he murmured something. I was about to say I couldn't hear him when the ball rose. Levitating.

I stared.

"Yeah, I know, it's about as useless as that patch of fog," he said, gaze fixed on the levitating ball, as if concentrating. "now, if I could left it more than a couple of inches, maybe to the top of that hoop, and slam-dunk it every time, that'd be a trick. But I'm not Harry Potter and real magic doesn't work that way."

"That's … magic?" I said.

The ball dropped into his hand. "You don't believe me, do you?"

"No, I –"

He cut me off with a laugh. "You think it's some kind of trick or a special effect. Well, movie girl, get your butt over here and test me."

"I –"

"Get over here." He pointed at the spot beside him. "See if you can find the strings."

I slid closer. He said some words, louder now, so I could hear them. It wasn't English.

When the ball didn't move, he cursed. "Did I mention I'm not Harry Potter? Let's try that again."

He repeated the words, slower, his gaze glued to the ball. It rose two inches.

"Now check for strings or wires or whatever you think is holding it up."

I hesitated, but he prodded and teased me until I moved closer and poked a finger between the ball and his hand. When I didn't hit anything, I slid all my fingers through, then waggled them. Simon's fist closed, grabbing my hand and I yelped as the ball bounced across the concrete pad.

"Sorry," he said, grinning, his fingers still holding mine. "I couldn't resist."

"Yes – I'm skittish, as your brother has probably pointed out. So how did you …" I looked at the ball, coming to rest on the grass. "Wow."

His grin grew. "You believe me now?"

As I stared at the ball, I struggled for other explanations. None came.

"Can you teach me how to do that?" I said finally.

"nah. No more than you can teach me how to see ghosts. Either you have it or you –"

"Playing basketball in the dark, Simon?" asked a voice across the yard. "You should have called me. You know I'm always up for a little –"

Tori stopped short, seeing me now. Her gaze moved to my hand, still in his.

"– one-on-one," she finished.

I yanked my fingers away. She kept staring.

"Hey, Tori," Simon said as he retrieved the ball. "What's up?"

"I saw you playing and thought maybe you could use a partner." Her gaze swung my way, expression unreadable. "I guess not."

"I should get inside," I said, "thanks for the pointers, Simon."

"No, hold up." He took a step after me, then glanced at Tori. "Uh, right. You're welcome. And it's getting dark, isn't it? It must be snack time by now …"

When I got inside, I waited until Tori had gone upstairs until I followed Simon into the kitchen, where I found him raiding the pantry again.

"Why did you apologize for Derek telling me I'm a necromancer?" I asked.

Without turning around, Simon said, "I was apologizing for him _not _telling you."

As he turned around, he saw my expression and continued. "He found you in the media room and gave you the opportunity to look up necromancy, which he knew you would. Then, in the basement, he wouldn't tell you about it, he made you figure it out on your own."

"Oh," I said. "Okay."

Turning around, I got to the door and stopped. Turning to look at Simon, I asked, "Why did _you_ tell me about me being a necromancer?"

"Derek wanted you to know, but he didn't want to tell you. He wasn't exactly sure it we should tell you," Simon said.

"Why wouldn't he want me to know?" I asked. "It's about me."

"He wasn't sure if we should drag you this."

"Into what?" I asked.

"Into being a necromancer. Into knowing that you'll never be … normal," he said.

"Because being a schizo is completely normal," I said.

Simon smiled, and though I hated to admit it, my heart skipped a beat. Turning around, I left the kitchen and went upstairs to catch up on some much needed sleep.


	17. Try Again

**Okay everyone, I was a little disappointed with the reviews from the last chapter. I only got 4 reviews! Anyway, I decided to get over my disappointment and write a new chapter. Though, based on only getting 4 reviews, I'm not so sure about continuing this story. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Darkest Powers**

**This is right after Chloe gets caught talking to Liz in the attic and her aunt has a meeting with the nurses.**

Since I'd missed morning classes, I was assigned lunch duty. I was setting the table, lost in my thoughts, when a voice said, "I'm behind you."

I spun to see Derek.

"I can't win," he said. "You're as skittish as a kitten."

"So if you sneak up and announce yourself, that's going to startle me less than if you tap me on the shoulder?"

"I didn't sneak –"

He shook his head, grabbed two rolls from the bread basket, then rearranged the others to hide the theft. "I just wanted to say that I want to talk to you later."

"About what?" I asked.

"About what you two were talking about outside last night," he said.

"We were just –"

"I know what you were doing. Simon already told me. You want answers. If you really want to know, I'll give them to you."

"When?" I asked.

"Tonight. Eight. Our room. Tell Mrs. Talbot you'll be with me for math tutoring."

"You're side is off-limits. Is she going to let me go up there, alone, with a boy?"

"Just tell her it's for math. She won't question it."

"Will that be … okay? You and I aren't supposed to –"

"Tell her Simon will be there. And talk to Talbot, not Van Dop."

**(AN This is jumping to after trying to opening the door in the basement)**

When I slipped into the kitchen, Derek was pawing through the fruit basket. The door hadn't made any noise opening and he had his back to me. The perfect chance for payback. I took three slow, silent steps toward him, barely daring to breath –

"Try again," he said, not turning around.

Yelping, I jumped back, tripping over my own feet and landing on my butt. Turning around, Derek saw me on the ground and raised an eyebrow, his look saying, "What are you doing?"

Sighing, I grabbed the counter and pulled myself up. Brushing myself off, I looked up at Derek and said, "How did you know I was there?"

"You might be quiet in the kitchen, but you're not quiet outside it," he said.

Blushing, I looked down at my feet.

"The key you want isn't on that ring," he said.

"Huh?" I asked, looking back up.

Walking to the fridge, he reached behind it and pulled off a magnetic set of keys.

"Try these," he said. He dropped them in my hands and walked past me to the kitchen doors. "I have no idea what you guys are doing down there, but next time you want to secretly open a locked door, don't whale on it hard enough to bring down the house."

Blushing again, I followed it out of the kitchen and went back to the basement.

I knew Rae was disappointed by what we'd found –or hadn't. I felt a weird kind of guilt, like a performer who failed to entertain. But she never doubted I'd seen a ghost of that he'd told me to open that door, and I was grateful for that.

I returned to key, washed, then found Mrs. Talbot and told her I was going upstairs for math tutoring with Derek and that Simon would be there. She hesitated but only for a moment, then sent me off.

I retrieved my newly arrived math text from my room and went around to the boys' side. The door was open. Simon sprawled on the bed, reading a comic. Derek was hunched over the too-small desk, doing homework.

The room was a reverse image of ours, set at the back of the house instead of the front. Simon's walls were covered in what looked like pages ripped from a comic book, but when I squinted, I realized they were hand drawn. Some were black-and-white, but most were in full color, everything from character sketches to splash panels to full pages, done in a style that wasn't quite manga, wasn't quite comic book. More than once Simon had gotten in trouble for doodling on class. Now I could see what he's been working on.

Derek's walls were bare. Books were stacked on his dresser and magazines lay open on the bed. Shoved to the back corner of his desk was some kind of contraption full of wires and pulleys. A school project, I supposed, but if I had to build anything that complicated next year, I was doomed.

I rapped on the doorframe.

"Hey." Simon slapped down the comic as he sat up. "I was just going to tell Derek we should go downstairs, make sure the nurses weren't giving you a hassle. They didn't, did they?"

I shook my head.

Derek set his math text on the bedside table, as a prop, then put his binder over it. Pulling out the chair, he motioned that I could sit there. Offering him a smile, I walked over and sat down. Walking over to the door, he said, "I'll be in the shower. Start without me."

"Won't the nurses hear the water running?"

He shrugged and shoved back his hair, lank and stringy now, the dull sheen of oil glistening under the lights. "Tell them I was already in there. I'll only be a few minutes."

As Derek walked out, I turned to the desk and set my books next to his. As I opened my text, to look like we were working on it, I knocked the binder off Derek's. I glimpsed the cover and did a double take.

_College Algebra with Trigonometry._

I flipped over the pages.

"If you can understand any of that, you're way ahead of me," Simon said.

"I thought Derek was in tenth grade."

"Yeah, but not in algebra. Or geometry. Or chemistry, physics, or biology, though I think he's only in twelfth grade in the sciences."

"_Only_ twelfth …?"

I put the binder back on top of Derek's text.

"Tori … she didn't give you a hard time or anything, did she?" he asked. "About yesterday."

I shook my head.

"Good. I don't know what her problem is. I've made it clear that I'm not interested."

"I guess that would be hard – having someone really like you and you aren't interested back."

He laughed. "The only person Tori really likes is Tori. Girls like Tori need to have a guy – any guy – and here I'm the only option. Peter was way too young and Derek's – Derek's not her type. Trust me, if another guy walks in here, she'll forget I exist."

Smiling, I shook my head. "So, I hope you guys asked me up here to answer some questions."

"Yeah," I deep voice rumbled from the doorway. Looking up, I watched Derek walk in and over to his bed. Finishing drying his hair, he neatly folded his towel and set it on the bed, sitting down next to it.

"What do you want to know?" Derek asked.

"Everything," I answered.

"Okay," Simon said. "You're a necromancer and I'm a sorcerer. You speak to the dead and I cast spells."

Looking out of the corner of my eye at Derek, I wondered what he was. I would ask, but something tells me he hasn't told me for a reason. Looking back at Simon, I decided I would wait until later and catch Simon alone.

"so, what else is there?" what other kind of …" I struggled for a word.

"Supernaturals," Derek said. "The different types are races. There aren't very many."

Nodding, I looked at Simon, who had started talking. "The biggies would be necros, sorcerers, witches – which are girl spellcasters. Similar, but a different race, and not as strong as sorcerers, or so everyone says. What else? Half-demons, but don't ask me about them because I know next to nothing." Gesturing in Derek, he said, "Derek knows more. Oh, and shamans. They're good healers and they can astral project."

"Astal …?"

"Leave their bodies," Derek said. "Move around like a ghost."

"Cool for cheating on tests or sneaking into the girls' locker room," Simon said. Looking guilty, he looked down and said, "For guys who'd do that kind of thing…"

"Your dad's a … sorcerer, too, then, I guess. So he knows others … like us?"

"Yeah. Supernaturals have a kind of community. Maybe _network_ would be a better word. You know others so you can talk to them, get things you can't get in the regular world, whatever. My dad used to be right into it. These days, not so much. Stuff… happened."

Noticing the need for a subject change, I said, "Okay, so we've got sorcerer, witches, half-demons, necromancer, and shamans. That's it, right? I'm not going to run into any werewolves or vampires, am I?"

"That'd be cool." He laughed, though I little forced.

Cool, maybe, but I was happy to leave werewolves and vampires to Hollywood. I could believe in magic and ghosts and even spirit travel, but turning into an animal or sucking blood stretched disbelief farther than I cared.

"So, there are three of us? In one place? That has to mean something."

"There are some supernatural powers," Derek said, "like yours, that can't be explained, so humans chalk them up to mental illness. Some kids in homes could be supernatural. Most aren't."

"Okay, back to me, then. What do these ghosts want?"

Simon shrugged. "Help, I guess."

"With what? Why me?"

"Because you can hear them," Derek said. "Not much sense talking to someone who can't hear you."

"Well, duh."

"I wasn't going to say it."

I gave him a mock glare. A small smile threatened at the corner of his mouth.

He continued. "How many necromancers do you think are walking around out there?"

"I don't know."

"We're talking about hundreds in the whole country. Have you ever met an albino?"

"No."

"Statistically speaking, you're about three times more likely to bump into an albino than a necromancer. So, imagine you're a ghost. If you see a necro, it's like being stranded on a desert island, then spotting a plane overhead. Are you going to try to get their attention? Of course. As for what they want? Who knows? If you were a ghost and you bumped into the one living being who could hear you, I'm sure you'd want _something_ from her. To know what they want, you're going to need to ask them."

"Easier said than done," I muttered.

I told them about the ghost in the basement.

"There could still be something back there. Something you didn't find. Something important to him. Maybe a paper or an object he'd like you to pass onto his family."

"Or clues to his murder," Simon said. "Or buried treasure."

Derek fixed him a look.

"Whatever it is," I said, "the point is moot because as long as I'm on theses pills, I can't make contact to ask."

"Then you need to stop taking the pills."

"Love to. If I could. But after what happened last night, they're giving me urine tests now."

"Ugh. That's harsh." Simon went quiet, then snapped his fingers. "Hey, I've got an idea. It's kinda gross, but what if you take the pills, crush them and mix them with your, you know, urine."

Derek stared at him.

"What?"

"You did pass chem last year, didn't you?"

Simon flipped him the finger. "Okay, genius, what's your idea?"

"I'll think about it. We should get her off those meds. I don't really care what that ghost wants, but he could be useful. As long as we have a willing subject, Chloe should take advantage of it, so she can learn. It's not like she's going anywhere soon … unless the ship her off."

Simon shot him a look. "Not funny, bro."

Derek raked his fingers through his wet hair. "Not trying to be funny. Seeing ghosts isn't easy to hide. It's not like casting spells. After this morning, with Dr. Davidoff and Gill, I caught some of their conversation later. I was walking by and heard –"

He stopped, head lifting. "Someone's coming."

"Boys? Chloe?" Mrs. Talbot called from the stairs. "Snack time. Come on down."

Simon called that we were coming. Turning to Derek, he said, "You heard the doctors talking. What about?"

"Chloe. And whether Lyle House is the right place for her."

**What do you think?**


	18. Dead People

**Okay everyone, thanks to those 5 people who reviewed my last chapter, I now have 99 reviews! Just one more and I'll have 100! Anyway, I bring you a new chapter! This one is when they talk in the basement. I am now half way through The Summoning!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Darkest Powers**

I did use the jar, as gross as it was. I'd already provided my "sample" for that day, so the next time I had to go, I did it in the upstairs bathroom, in the jar, hiding it behind the cleaning stuff under the sink. Cleaning the bathroom was one of our chores, so I hoped that meant the nurses never went under there.

We didn't do much work in class that day. We tried, but Ms. Wang wasn't cooperating. It was Friday and she saw the weekend looming, so she just set us up with our assignments, then played solitaire on her laptop.

Rae spent most of the morning in therapy, first with Dr. Gill, then in a special session with Dr. Davidoff, while Tori went for hers with Dr. Gill. That meant when Ms. Wang let us out early for lunch, I was left to pass the time with Simon and Derek, which was fine with me. There was still so much I wanted to know. Asking wasn't nearly so easy, especially since it wasn't stuff we could discuss in the media room.

Going outside would have been the obvious choice, but Miss Van Dop was working in the garden. So Simon offered to help me finish the laundry since it wouldn't seem as suspicious if he helped instead of Derek, who said he'd sneak down later.

"So this is where our resident ghost lurks," Simon said, circling the laundry room.

"I think so but –"

He held up a hand, then lowered himself to the floor and started sorting through the last basket. "You don't need to tell me there might not be a ghost here, and I'm not going to make you try and contact it. When Derek comes down, he might ask you to. But you don't have to talk to the ghost unless you want, so don't let him make you."

"I don't make her do anything." Derek's voice preceded him around the corner.

"Well, you can be a little forceful, bro," Simon said.

"If she doesn't want to do it, all she has to do is say no," Derek said, walking around the corner and walking over to the wall across from us. Leaning back, he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"So, we need a plan," he said.

"For what?" I asked.

"We need to figure out a plan in case they decide to transfer you," he said.

Simon balled up a shirt. "For God's sake, Derek, they're not –"

"They're thinking about it," Derek said, looking over at him.

I stood and gathered a load for the washer. "If they do, I don't see that I have a lot of options. I can't exactly refuse."

"Well, if we had a plan, we could find a way for you to refuse," he said, scooping up the laundry that I'd missed and dropping it into the washer, moving beside me as he did. "They won't let you talk to Liz, will they?"

"Huh – what?"

"Tori asked this morning. I heard. Talbot told her no and said she'd told you the same thing when you asked last night." He grabbed the soap box from me hands, lifted the measuring cup from the shelf, and waggled it. "This helps."

Giving him a mock glare, I grabbed the cup and measured the soap out, turning to face the washer to hide a smile.

"They said I can call Liz on the weekend."

"Still, seems a little odd. You barely know the girl, and you're the first one wanting to call her?"

"It's called being considerate," I said. Smiling a little, I asked, "Maybe you've heard of it?"

He batted my hands from the dials. "Dark, cold. Or you'll end up with the dye bleeding." He glanced back at me, raising his eyebrows. "See? I'm considerate."

"Sure, when it's mostly _your _stuff in there," I said, this time not hiding my smile.

Behind us, Simon snorted a laugh. The corners of Derek's mouth lifted a bit. I could swear I saw his eyes soften a little, but I could have been imagining it.

"As for Liz," I continued, "I just wanted to be sure she was okay."

"Why wouldn't she be?"

Taking a deep breath, I started explaining about what I saw. I got as far as the part about waking to see Liz on the bed, chattering away.

When I paused, Derek cut in. "So…Liz returned from the great beyond to show you her really cool socks?"

I told them about her "dream" and her attic appearance.

When I finished, Simon sat there, staring, a shirt dangling from his hands. "That sure sounds like a ghost."

"Just because she's a ghost doesn't mean she was murdered," Derek said. "She could have had a completely unrelated accident on the way to the hospital. If that happened, they wouldn't want to tell us right away."

"Or maybe she's not dead at all," I said, hopefully. "Could she be astral projecting? Shamans do that, right? It might also explain how she was moving stuff around. It wasn't a poltergeist spirit – it was _her _spirit or however it works. You said our powers kick in around puberty, right? If we don't know what we are when it happens, this is just the kind of place we'd end up. A home for teens with weird problems."

He shrugged. But he didn't argue.

"Would being a shaman explain what she was doing? Throwing stuff around? Could she have been popping out of her body without knowing it?"

"Maybe," he said, if only to reassure me. "Let me think about it."

**AN: I'm skipping the scene with Tori and her mom and going to the crawlspace scene, which I have been waiting for. This is at the beginning of chapter 28.**

My hand brushed something lying in the dirt. The matchbook.

I snatched it up and fumbled with the cover. I pulled out a match, then turned the book over, fingers searching for the strike slip. There.

"Help. Help. Me."

I backpedaled, shimmying and kicking my bound feet to get away, match falling. I stopped, and ran my hand over the dirt, searching for it.

_Get another one!_

I did. Found the strike strip again. Pinched the match between my fingers and … realized that I had no idea how to light it. Why would I? At camp, only counselors started fires. I'd never smoked a cigarette. I didn't share other girls' fascination with candles.

_You must have done this before._

Probably, but I didn't remember …

_Who cares! You've seen it in the movies, haven't you? How hard can it be?_

I pinched the match again, stuck it … and it folded on impact. I pulled out another. How many were there? Not many – it was the same pack Rae had used the first day I'd caught her lighting matches.

This time, I held the match lower, near the head, I stuck it. Nothing. I struck again and the match head flared, singeing my fingertips, but I didn't let go. The flame burned bright, but gave off very little light. I could see my hand, but beyond that –darkness.

No, there was something to the right, moving on the dirt. I could make out only a dark shape, dragging itself toward me. Big and long. Something reached out. It looked like an arm, splotchy, the hand almost white, long fingers glowing against the earth.

The hand reached forward, clawing the dirt, then pulling the body along. I could see clothes, ripped clothing. The smell of dirt and something rank filled my nostrils.

I lifted the match higher. The thing raised its head. A skull stared at me, strips of blackened flesh and dirty encrusted hair hanging from it. Empty eye sockets turned my way. The jaw opened, teeth clacking as it tried to speak, uttering only that horrible, guttural groan.

"Help. Help me."

I screamed into the gag so loud I thought my head would explode. Anything left in my bladder gave way. I dropped the match. It sputtered on the ground, then went out, but not before I saw a bony hand reaching for my leg and a second corpse slithering up beside the first.

For a second, I just sat there, nearly convulsing with fear, my screams little more than rasps. Then that hand wrapped around my leg, cold bone biting in, scraps of ragged cloth brushed my bare skin. Even if I couldn't see it, I could visualize it, and that image was enough to stop the screams in my throat and be jolted back to life.

I yanked free, kicking, shuddering as my foot made contact, and I heard a dry, snapping sound. As I scuttled away, I heard someone saying my name, telling me to stop.

I tried to pull the gag off, but my shaking fingers still couldn't find an edge. I gave up, crawling as fast as I could, until the thumps and clicks and enraged hisses grew distant.

"Chloe! Stop." A dark shape loomed above me, illuminated by a dim light. "It's –"

I kicked as hard as I could. A sharp hiss of pain and a curse.

"Chloe!"

Fingers clamped down on my arm. I swung. Another hand grabbed that arm, and yanked my off balance.

"Chloe, it's me. Derek."

I collapsed into his arms, relieved at hearing his voice. I felt him lift me and shift me so that I was sitting between his legs, facing him sideways. He reached forward and gently peeled the gag off, easing it slowly so the tape wouldn't pull hard. When it was off, I said, "Th-th-there's –"

"Dead people, I know. They must have been buried down here. You accidentally raised them."

"R-r-raised –"

"Later. Right now, you need to –"

The thumping sounded again, and I could see them –in my mind – pulling their limp bodies along. The rustle of their clothing and dried flesh. The clatter and clicks of their bones. Their spirits trapped inside. Trapped in their corpses –

"Chloe, focus!"

Derek grabbed my forearms, holding me still, pulling me close enough to see the white flash of his teeth as he talked. From behind him came that faint light I'd seen earlier. The door had been left open, letting in just enough light to make out shapes.

"They won't hurt you," he said, softly, almost in a whisper. "They aren't brain-eating movie zombies, okay? They're just dead bodies with their spirits returned to them."

Just dead bodies? With their spirits returned to them? I'd sent people –ghosts –back into their corpses? I thought of what that would be like, shoved back into your decomposing body, trapped their –

"I –I –I need to send them back."

"Yeah, that'd be the general idea."

His voice was strained. When I stopped shaking, I could feel the tension running through him, vibrating through the hands gripping my arms, and I knew he was struggling to stay calm. I rubbed my hands over my face, the stink of dirt filling my nostrils.

"O-okay, so how do I send them back?"

Silence. I looked up.

"Derek?"

"I…I don't know."

"But –"

"You just have to undo what you did," he said.

"I don't know what I did," I said.

"You just have to try," he said, looking down at me.

I closed my eyes. "Go back. Back to your afterlife. I release you."

I repeated the words, concentrating so hard sweat was trickling down my face. But the thumping kept coming. Closer. Closer.

I closed my eyes and made myself a movie, starring a foolish young necromancer who needs to send spirits back to the netherworld. I forced myself to picture the corpses. I saw myself calling to their ghosts, freeing them of their earthly bonds. I imagined their spirits lifting –

"Help. Help."

My throat went dry. The voice was right beside me. I opened my eyes.

Derek's hands tightened around my forearms. Softly, he said, "Keep your eyes closed, Chloe. Just remember, they won't hurt you."

A bony finger touched my elbow. I jumped.

"It's okay, Chloe. I'm right here. Keep going."

As I held myself still, the fingertips poked my arm, then slid along it, stroking, testing, feeling, like the blind man with the elephant. Bone scraped over my skin. A rustling clatter as the corpse pulled itself closer. The smell of it –

_Visualize._

I am!

_ Not like that!_

I closed my eyes –meaningless since I could see nothing with them open, but it made me feel better. The fingers crept and poked over my back, plucking my shirt, the corpse making _gah-gah-gah_ noises as if trying to talk.

I gritted my teeth and blocked it out. Not easy, knowing what was touching me, pressing up against my side –

_Enough already!_

Turning, I faced the dark, my back to Derek. Scooting back, I leaned into his chest, trying to steady myself. I could feel his heartbeat racing against my back. Taking a deep breath, I focused on Derek's breathing. Slow, deep breaths through his mouth.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Find a quiet spot. The creative place.

Slowly the sounds and touches and smells of the real world faded. I squeezed my eyes shut, and let myself free-fall into my imagination. I focused on the bodies, imagining myself tugging out their spirits, setting them free, like caged doves, winging their way into the sunlight.

Feeling one of the corpses grab my foot, I jumped again, farther into Derek's chest. Folding my legs closer to me, I leaned my head on Derek's chest, focusing on his heart beat. He wrapped his arms around me to grab my hands to steady me. Feeling his hands trying to find mine, I automatically reached for his, grabbing them and squeezing as I concentrated.

I repeated the images –freeing spirits, wising them well, apologizing as I sent them on their way. From beside me, I could hear Derek tell me I was doing fine, his breath tickling my ear as he leaned down to speak. After a while of this, Derek's hands loosened around mine.

"They're gone, Chloe," he whispered.

I stopped. I could still feel bony fingers, now on my leg, a body resting against mine, but it wasn't moving. When I twisted sideways, the corpse fell, an empty shell, collapsing at my feet. Derek let out a long, deep breath, running his hands through his hair. After a moment, he asked if I was okay. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I nodded. Waiting a minute, Derek let me rest against him. Looking around, Derek said, "Guess we have some work to do."

**What do you think? I know that it was a little much for their relationship at the beginning, but oh well. **


	19. We Need To Talk To You

**Okay everyone, I'm sorry for the wait. I won't bore you on the detail of my laziness. **

**This one is right after the incident in the crawl space.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Darkest Powers**

By "work," he meant cleanup. As in, reburying the bodies. All I'll say about that is that I was glad even when the door was open it was still too dark to see those corpses very well.

The graves were shallow, barely more than a few inches of dirt over the bodies, enough for them to claw through when their spirits were slammed back into their corpses. But I didn't want to think about that.

I could tell the bodies had been buried quite a while, probably before Lyle House had become a group home. And they were adults. For now, that was all I needed to know.

As we worked, I asked Derek how he'd found me. He said that when he realized Tori had stayed behind, he knew she was up to something, so he went to check on me. How exactly he found me, he didn't say, only shrugged and mumbled something about checking "the obvious places" when I seemed to be missing.

The question now was: What to do about Tori?

"Nothing," I said, wiping my trembling hands after smoothing over the second grave.

"Huh?"

Nice to hear _him _say that for a change.

"I'm going to act like nothing happened."

He considered it, then nodded. "That seems smart. If you blame her, things will only escalate. Better to ignore her and hope she gives up."

"_Pray _she gives up," I muttered as I crawled for the door.

"Is there still clean clothing down here?" Derek asked.

"One load in the dryer. That's it. Why –? Oh, right. Better not to go upstairs covered in dirt." I climbed down the ladder. "Most of what's in the dryer is yours so –"

"Chloe? Derek?" Mrs. Talbot stood in the laundry room. "What are you two doing together? Derek, you know you're not supposed to –"her gaze traveled over my filthy clothes. "Dear Lord, what happened to you?"

There was no sense denying we'd been in the crawl space, since she caught us stepping from the closet, me caked in dirt. I moved my legs together, hoping it hid the wet mark. The blow to the back of my skull throbbed and I struggled to speak, praying Derek would jump in. He didn't. Instead he moved a little closer to me without Talbot noticing.

"I was doing laundry, and D-Derek came down, looking for –"

Dr. Gill stepped into the room. My gaze shot to her. From beside me, I felt Derek's hand brush mine.

"Go on, Chloe."

"H-he wanted his shirt. I – I asked about stain stuff, because I couldn't find any and I opened the closet to look, and Derek said it was usually l-locked. We f-found the ladder and the crawl sp-space and we were curious."

"Oh, I bet you were curious," Dr. Gill said, crossing her arms. "Kids your age are very curious, aren't they?"

I felt Derek's hand brush against mine again.

"I – I guess so. We were exploring –"

"I bet you were," Dr. Gill cut in.

I realized what she thought Derek and I had been doing. I also realized why Derek kept brushing his hand against mine. He was telling me to stop talking.

Even as I denied it, I saw she'd given us the perfect out. If I dropped my gaze sheepishly and said "Yep, you caught us," they'd have their explanation, with no reason to go into the crawl space and discover those hastily reburied corpses.

If it had been Simon, they would have believed me in a second. But Derek? Nothing in the world would have convinced them.

It didn't matter. The more I denied it, the more certain they were that we'd been fooling around. Dr. Gill had already made up her mind. If you find a teenage boy and girl in a dark, private place, was there really any question what they'd been up to?

Even Mrs. Talbot seemed convinced, her mouth tight with disapproval as I blathered.

And Derek? After trying to convince me to stop, he gave up.

Aunt Lauren tried to follow, but I wouldn't listen. I was too angry. Too hurt. To think I'd fool around in a basement crawl space with the first boy who showed an interest in me? That really stung.

God only knew what she thought we'd been doing. I was pretty sure her imagination had taken her way past the sweet first-kiss stage. To think I'd go from "never been on a date" to "rolling around in the dirt with a stranger"? That was insulting. No, more than insulting. It made me furious.

Did Aunt Lauren know the first thing about me? And if _she _didn't, who did?

When it was clear I wasn't going to "calm down" and talk to my aunt, it was time for the next phase. The trial. I was summoned back into the office, with Derek as my codefendant and Dr. Gill and Dr. Davidoff as judge and jury. It was a closed court. Even Aunt Lauren wasn't allowed in.

I didn't bother to argue about why we'd been in the crawl space. I'd moved well past the "Oh my God, I don't want anyone to think I'm that kind of girl" stage. If they thought Derek and I had been grappling in the dirt, then at least it meant they wouldn't go into the crawl space and sees the signs of disturbance … or, if they did, they'd figure they knew what caused it.

Despite what Aunt Lauren believed, I was sure Derek was as horrified by the thought as I was. When Dr. Gill tried to get a confession from him, he only shrugged, and muttered "whatever," arms crossed; big frame slumped in his seat, defiance in the set of his chin. Like me, he'd realized there was no use arguing, but he wasn't about to confess either.

"This isn't the first time you two have…tangled," Dr. Gill said finally. "And I have a feeling it won't be the last. We need to nip this in the bud, and the only way we're going to do that is with a transfer. One you will have to go."

"I will." I heard the words and it took a moment to realize they'd come from me.

Was I crazy? Volunteering to be transferred when I was already worried about what such a transfer meant?

But I didn't take it back. If one of us had to leave, it should be me. As frightened as I was of being shipped out, I wouldn't separate Simon and Derek.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Derek tense up as Davidoff considered it. He only relaxed once Dr. Davidoff started talking.

"No one's going anywhere," Dr. Davidoff said softly. "For now, I'm putting both of you on notice. But don't give me any reason to revisit this discussion. Is that understood?"

It was.

When the doctors dismissed us, Derek and I headed into hall together. As we walked, I thought I saw a spot on my shirt. I reached down and tried to rub it away. Looking down, I didn't notice when Derek stopped in front of me until I walked into him. I gasped and stumbled backward. Derek reached out and grabbed my wrist, steadying me.

"What are you wiping at?" he whispered.

"A spot."

"There's no spot."

I looked down and saw he was right. Nodding, I looked back up at him.

"We need to talk," he whispered.

"Do you really think that's a good idea?"

"Simon'll be there," he said. "Five minutes. Out back."

Waiting for the five minutes, I wondered into the media room. Seeing my iPod on the computer desk, I walked over to pick it up. I saw a shadow behind me and I jumped.

Rae stood there, hands out. "Down, girl. It's just me."

I put my iPod in my pocket.

She draped her sweatshirt over a chair. "So what happened?"

"Not what everyone thinks."

"Well, duh."

She settled in on the end of the love seat, feet pulled under her, throw pillow on her lap, getting comfortable, waiting for the real story. She'd known me less than a week, and _she _knew I hadn't been fooling around in a crawl space with Derek.

"I'll tell you later," I murmured, "when we're in our room."

"But you _will _tell me, right?"

I nodded.

"Good. So, how'd it go?"

I told her about the meeting with the doctors and about Aunt Lauren. "Its one thing when strangers think you'd do stuff you wouldn't. They don't know you. But when it's someone who should? Someone you thought _did_?" I shook my head.

"Yeah, I've had my share of that. At school, if I did anything wrong, I got hauled into the counselor, who lectured me on the temptations of the street and the importance of staying in school. It's, like, excuse me? Is there anything in my record that says I've ever been near a gang? Or that I don't think school's important? I get straight B's, and I never skip class – go lecture someone else."

She hugged the pillow to her chest. "I tell myself that's cool – they don't know me. But I get the same crap from my mom. Every time we get into it, she reminds me about my friends Trina. Ran away at fourteen, got mixed up in a gang, and killed in a drive-by shooting. Hello? What does that have to do with me? There's a reason Trina and I weren't friends anymore. I'm not like that."

"They mean well, I guess. But it stings."

"The worst of it –"Her gaze rose above my head. "What do you want?"

Derek circled in front of me and tapped his watch. "Did I say five minutes?"

"Sorry, I was talking and I lost track of time."

He nodded. "We need to talk to you."

Rae started to rise. "Should I get the nurses?"

I waved her down, then turned to Derek. "I'll be there in a sec."

He hesitated for a second then nodded. As he walked out, Simon walked in and they exchanged a look. When Derek was out of view, Simon came up and sat on the arm of the love seat.

"Hey," he said, smiling.

"Hi," I said.

"I'll leave you two –"Rae began, pushing up from the sofa.

"You don't have to," I said.

"It's fine. I hear chores calling my name."

When she was gone, I moved over. Simon slid down beside me.

"What was that about?" I asked.

"To get her to leave," he said.

"Why? She wasn't doing anything," I said.

"I know, but we can't talk when she's here," he said. "And besides, I thought it was a pretty good interruption."

"Meaning?"

"I didn't have to say anything besides hey and she got the hint that we wanted to be left _alone,_" he said, wiggling his eyebrows when he said alone.

I laughed at that. "Oh yeah. That's definitely what I need. Getting caught _messing_ around with a guy and getting left _alone _with another one all in the same day."

"See, I'm keeping your needs in mind," he said, he famous smile springing to his face.

I shook my head, laughing and looked down at my watch.

"I've got to go do chores," I said.

"That's fine," he said. "Can I talk to you later?"

"Sure," I said. "See you then."

**Okay, so I know that compared to the last one, this one kinda sucks. But it's a chapter, so whatever. Anyway, I have created a poll that's on my profile, so please go and check it out. **


	20. You Owe Me

**Okay, so like I said in the author's note, I'm not continuing this as a story. I have lost complete interest in continuing it like I was. Instead, I'm going to do what I started out doing. I'm just going to do rewrites of certain chapters. I'm hoping you guys will request some. It can be any chapter from any of the books.**

**This one is a re-write of chapter 33. It was a request from really early on. I'm sorry that I don't remember who requested it. It was like a year ago.**

I wondered whether, after our escape, I'd find time to sleep. Because I certainly hadn't been getting much at Lyle House.

That night I was so exhausted I didn't even have a chance to lie there, raging about Derek or fretting about the step I was about to take. I hit the bed and fell straight into dreams of wailing police sirens and baying tracking dogs. Of a boy trapped in a hospital bed and a boy trapped in a group home and ghosts trapped in rotting corpses. Of zombies screaming for mercy and a girl screaming, "But I didn't mean it," and a boy saying, "I didn't mean it either. Doesn't matter."

The dreams spun and melted together until one slid free. An image buried by the stronger, louder ones, separating and saying, "What about me?"

I bolted awake and sat there, suspended in the dark, reeling in that tangled memory, the questions it raised, the answers it promised.

Then I leaped from bed.

…,,,…

I tapped the bedroom door.

"Derek?"

Rough snores answered.

I rapped the door again, raising my voice as loud as I dared.

"Derek?"

My toes curled against the icy hardwood and I rubbed the goose bumps on my arms. I should have grabbed a sweater. And socks.

I shouldn't even be here. I'd told the guy off, made the perfect exit...and was now creeping back, begging him to talk to me. Also, it was like the middle of the night. I should be in bed trying to get at least a few minutes of sleep. Most likely, I was also waking up Derek, denying him sleep. Maybe I should go back to bed. Maybe one more knock.

As I lifted my hand to knock, the doorknob clicked. When the door creaked open, I lifted my eyes to eye level, and apology on my lips, and found myself staring at a chest. A bare chest…and not a boy's chest. Broad and muscular, a scattering of angry red acne dots the only sign that it _wasn't _attached to a grown man. Even with the acne, I couldn't stop staring. _Is it getting hot in here?_

Around the house, Derek always wore oversized sweatshirts and baggy jeans. If I'd pictured what he looked like under them I would have guessed stocky, bordering on overweight. All that food he scarfed down had to go somewhere. And, apparently, it did – just not to fat. Let's just say, if I _had_ pictured him without the sweatshirt, I wouldn't be disappointed.

My cheeks heated and my gaze dropped from Derek's chest… only to see he was wearing nothing but boxers. _Oh my._ _There must be something wrong with the thermostat._

"Chloe?"

My gaze shot – gratefully – to his face.

He peered at me. "Chloe? What –?"

"You owe me."

"Huh?" He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, snarled a yawn, and rolled his shoulders. "What time is it?"

"Late. Or early. It doesn't matter. I need you help and you owe me. Get dressed and be downstairs in five minutes."

I turned on my heel and headed for the stairs.

…,,,…

Would Derek follow me? Probably not, considering I'd ignored his "meet me in five minutes" command that afternoon. That probably wasn't the best idea.

I'd planned to not leave his doorway until he agreed to help me. But I hadn't expected him to be nearly naked during the conversation. It was probably a good thing I left when I did before I said anything I would regret or my hands travelled to places they didn't belong. It also reminded me that I was wearing only pajama pants and a tank top. When I got downstairs, I looked for the sweatshirt Rae had shucked in the media room earlier. She must have grabbed it though, because it was nowhere to be found. As I was walking into the hall, I smacked into a very tall, very warm, Derek. Before I fell onto my butt, he grabbed me by the shoulders to steady me.

He wore sweatpants and a T-shirt and had stopped in the hall. When he finally let go of my arms, I instantly missed the heat. His hand went to his arm and he began to furiously scratch at his bare forearm.

"Fleas?" I said.

The joke was an admittedly lame attempt to lighten the mood from earlier, and Derek was kind enough not to respond.

"Where to?" he asked.

I motioned him into the media room and closed the door. Then I cocked my head, listening.

"We're fine here," he said. "Someone comes, I'll hear."

I moved across the room and stopped in a patch of moonlight. When he followed, I got my first good look at him in the light. His face was pale, his cheeks flaming red, and not from the acne. Sweat plastered his hair around his face and his red-rimmed eyes glittered, struggling to focus. _Oh no._

"You've got a fever," I said, softly.

"Maybe." He raked his hair back. "Something I ate, I guess."

"Or some bug you picked up."

He shook his head. "I don't …" He hesitated, then pushed on. "I don't get sick. Not often anyways. Part of my…condition. This seems to be a reaction." He scratched his arms again. "No big deal. I'm just off. Crankier than usual, Simon would say."

"You should go back to bed. Forget this –"

"No, you're right. I owe you. What do you need?"

I wanted to argue, but could tell he'd made up his mind.

"Hold on," I said, and hurried into the hall.

…,,,…

I returned with a glass of cold water and handed it to him, along with four Tylenol.

"Two for now, two for later, in case you –"

He tossed all four into his mouth and drained half the water.

"Or you could take them all now."

"I've got a high metabolism," he said. "Another part of my condition."

"I know a lot of girls who wouldn't mind that."

He grunted something unintelligible and drained the glass. "Thanks, but…" He met my gaze. "You don't need to be nice to me just because I'm not feeling great. You're mad. You've got a right to be. I used you and I made it worse by pretending I hadn't. If I were you, I wouldn't be bringing water unless it was to dump over my head."

He turned away to set the empty glass on the table, and I'm glad he did, because I was pretty sure my jaw had dropped. Either that fever had gone straight to his brain or I was still asleep, dreaming, because that had sounded suspiciously like an admission of guilt. Maybe even a roundabout apology.

He turned back. "Okay, so you need…?"

I waved him to the love seat. I watched him take a seat and then sat down next to him, making sure to keep at least a foot between us. I wasn't sure how close he wanted me to be.

"You know something about necromancy, right?" I began.

He shrugged. "I'm no expert."

"But you know more than me, Simon, and anyone else I can talk to at the moment. So how do necromancers contact the dead?"

"You mean like the guy in the basement? If he's there, you should see him. Then you'd just talk, like we are now."

"I mean contacting a specific person. Can I do that? Or am I restricted to those I stumble across?"

He went quiet. His face softened and he inched closer to me, laying his hand on mine, which was on my lap. When he spoke, his voice was low and uncharacteristically soft. "If you mean you mom, Chloe –"

When I hesitated, he lightly squeezed his hand. My heart fluttered and I lightly squeezed it back. When I spoke, my voice came out as a whisper, "No. Someday maybe, by not now. This is connected to our situation."

"You mean Liz?"

"No I – I should try to contact her, I guess. J-just to be sure. But that's not it. Forget why I want to know."

He leaned a little closer and said, "If I knew why, I could answer a lot easier."

"If I _can _contact a specific person, how would I do it?"

"You can, but it's not easy and it's not guaranteed at you age. Like Simon and his spells, you're at the…apprenticeship level."

"Where I can do things by accident, like raising the dead."

"Well, no." He absently scratched his arm with the hand that wasn't currently holding mine, the _skritch-skritch_ filling the silence. "From what I heard, raising the dead is the toughest thing to do, and it needs this complicated ritual." He shook his head and stopped scratching. "I must have heard wrong. Like I said, I'm not an expert."

"Back to _how_, then. How do I call a specific ghost?"

"If I remember right, there are two ways. You could use a personal effect."

"Like with a tracking dog."

A small noise that sounded like a laugh. "Yeah, I guess so. Or like one of those psychics you see in movies, always asking for something that belonged to the person."

"And the second way?" I tried not the show how much I wanted this answer, how much I hoped I'd already guessed it.

"You need to be at the grave."

My heart hammered, and it was a moment before I could speak. "At the grave. Presuming that's where the body is buried. It the body that's important, not the grave site."

"Yeah, the body. The ultimate personal effect."

"Then I think I know what the ghost in the basement wanted."

I explained how the ghost had urged me to "make contact" and "summon them" and "get their story."

"He meant the buried bodies. That's why he wanted me to go into the crawl space. So I could get close enough to the bodies to contact those ghosts."

"Why?"

"From what he seemed to say, it's about Lyle House. Something they can tell me."

"But those bodies have been down there way longer than Lyle House has been a group home. And if this ghost knows something, why not just tell you himself?"

"I don't know. He said…" I strained to remember. "He seemed to be saying he couldn't make contact with them himself."

"Then how would he know they had anything important to tell you?"

Good questions. This was why I'd gone to Derek. Because he'd challenge my assumptions, show me where the holes were and what I had to learn before jumping to any conclusions.

"I don't know," I said finally. "However they got there, I'm pretty sure they didn't die of natural causes. You're probably right, and it's completely unconnected to us, and this ghost is confused, losing track of time. Or maybe he wants me to solve their murder." I stood, my hand still in his. I pulled on his, making him stand up. "But, whatever he wants me to hear, I'm going to listen. Or at least try."

"We should take a flashlight. I'll grab that. You get our shoes."

**Okay, so should I do the next chapter too or move onto a new chapter? If I move on, I'm gonna need ideas.**


	21. Do You?

**Okay, so I realize that I haven't updated this in awhile, but oh well. And I am doing something different with this chapter. I am skipping ahead two books and doing a scene from The Reckoning. This scene is from chapter 17. I know it's been done before, but I decided to give it a shot.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Darkest Powers**

I watched Simon walk away, then wiped my eyes with my sleeve and headed for the lights of the house. I'd just passed the edge of the woods when the rear door opened, light spilling into the nearly dark yard. Then I hulking figure blocked the light. Despite my ever increasing despair and the fact that I had just learned of my attraction towards him, I couldn't help feeling a little relieved at seeing him standing there, waiting. I wasn't about to run to him and declare my ever dying love, but maybe Simon had a point about there being someone else.

When I got closer to the house, Derek came out of the house, the door shutting behind him, and started walking towards me. I stopped about halfway and waited for him, knowing he would want to know what happened. And by the look on his face, he wasn't too pleased.

"Where's Simon?" he snapped. Not wanting to anger him further, I pointed back to the woods. "He _left _you? Out here? At night?"

"Just for a second," I lied, "He dropped something and went back to get it."

I could tell that Derek didn't believe me. I could feel his eyes on me, studying me. I didn't look up though. I didn't want him to see the tears in my eyes. I heard him sniff and knew he smelled the salt of my tears. He took a step forward, but I still didn't look up. When I could see his feet in front of me, I expected him to demand an explanation. Instead, I felt gentle fingers lift my chin. Confused, I let him lift my chin until he could see into my eyes. I watched him study the increasing red around my eyes and the lone tear the fell slowly down my cheek. His thumb brushed across my cheek and stopped it. Softly, he asked, "What happened?"

"Nothing," I said, hoping he wouldn't ask again. Of course, lady luck was on vacation.

"You're crying," he pointed out. "Obviously it's not nothing."

"It's nothing important," I said.

"You're crying," he repeated.

"Really, Derek, it's nothing," I said. "I'm fine."

"What happened with Simon? Why isn't he with you," he asked.

"I told you, he dropped something," I said.

"If he dropped something, he would have been back by now," he said, always the logical one.

"Okay, so he didn't drop something," I said, "But he'll be right back."

"Then why did he leave you alone?" he demanded.

"He just needed to blow off steam," I said. "Please, Derek, I'm tired."

He studied my face before nodding and dropping his hand, allowing me to lower my chin. I walked around him and started toward the house, stopping briefly to see what Derek was going to do. He seemed torn, not knowing whether to find his brother or follow me into the house. I turned back around and just as I got to the house, I saw an arm come around and grab the door knob, opening it for me. I glanced up and said thank you before walking in. Honestly, I was tired, but I didn't want to go to my room just yet. Tori would be there and I didn't want to hear her telling me how stupid I am for screwing up with Simon. Instead, I went into the living room and sat on the couch. I saw Derek walk in and stop in the doorway. He looked a little lost, so I patted the spot next to me and scooted over, giving me more room. I walked over and sat, not saying anything. We sat in silence for a few minutes before he said, "So, why were you crying?"

"Not gonna drop the subject, are you?" I asked. The look on his face answered it for me.

"Did something happen?" he asked. "On the … date?"

"Well…"

"Did Simon do something?" he asked.

"Yes and no," I said, looking down at my hands, which were currently playing with the hem of my shirt. "And also me."

"What did he do?" he asked. "If he hurt you-"

"No! Nothing like that," I said. "It just didn't go like I expected. The date was nice. I had fun. But after… Simon sort of …kissed me."

"Did you not want to be … kissed?" he asked. He seemed really unsure of himself, which I guess was to be expected. He probably wasn't used to personal conversations with people who weren't his family. Also, dating probably wasn't his area of expertise.

"Well, it's not like I minded," I said, "But it wasn't what I expected. It didn't feel right."

"What did Simon say?" he asked.

"He thinks…"

"Thinks what?" he asked.

"He thinks that there's someone else," I said, quietly, though I knew that he could hear me.

"Someone from before?" he asked.

"No," I said.

"Then who-" the look on his face said it all. The complete shock was proof that wasn't the answer he was expecting. I watched his face as it changed from shock to confusion. "Me? Why would he think that?"

"Well, you know Simon. Him and his wacky ideas," I said, standing up.

"Chloe," he said.

"You know, I'm really tired. I think I'm going to head up to bed," I said, attempting to flee the room before Derek could stop me. Of course, my attempt was fruitless. Attempting to out-flee a werewolf was like trying to outrun a cheetah: pointless. Just as I got to the doorway, I felt his hand on my elbow, stopping me. I didn't turn though.

"Why would he think that, Chloe?" he asked again. When I didn't answer, he asked, "Do you?"

This time when I didn't answer, if was half because I didn't know what to say and half because I hoped he got the message. He seemed to because I felt him take a step closer and pull my elbow, turning me around. When I looked up, I looked into his eyes. I felt my heart skip a beat and my breathing stopped. This time, I knew what was coming and I didn't shy away when Derek's lips gently pressed against mine. He didn't go farther than the initial kiss and he pulled back, waiting for me to say it wasn't what I wanted. But it was what I wanted. Even though it was only for a second, that kiss had sent a spark through me that wanted more. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled myself up to him. This time, he didn't pull back. He grabbed my waist and pulled me to him.

And being me, luck still wasn't on my side as we heard the door close and we broke apart. Derek looked at me and then toward the door and back at me, giving me a questioning look. I motioned for him to go. Simon needed him right now. He nodded and walked out. Sighing, I decided it was time to face Tori. I'd talk to Derek later.

**Okay, so I know. Big difference. Anyway, I'm not going to part two to this chapter, so don't bother asking. I have a new poll on my profile which will affect which story I will update first. If nobody chooses, I will pick myself. **


	22. That Was Fast

**Oh, hey, wow. This story. Hmm, been a while, huh? I'd love to say that I was busy or something incredibly important came up…for 10 months. However, I just didn't feel like updating. This story bores me. Honestly. Anyway, I got another idea for a chapter so I thought what the heck? This is another re-write of chapter 17 in The Reckoning, plus some of chapter 18. It will not be very long. Sorry about that. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Darkest Powers**

I watched Simon walk away. I wanted to run after him and shake him as hard as I could, trying to get through his head that I _didn't _like Derek. Not in the way that he believed. But no matter how much I told my feet to move, to take a step toward him, I couldn't. I couldn't get him to believe he was wrong when I wasn't so sure myself. Me like Derek? A week ago, I would have laughed at the thought. Now? Now, the sureness wouldn't come.

I sighed and turned back toward the house. I could make out a faint light through the trees. Someone was still awake. Waiting. What would they say when I arrived alone? Would they be angry because I left Simon alone in the woods? Would they see the tears I tried so desperately to stop and feel sorry for me? God, I hoped not. I didn't want pity. I didn't deserve it. Simon had tried so hard to make this night fun for me and I ruined it.

I took one step after another until I broke through the trees. As soon as I stepped into the yard, the back door opened the small area in front of the door was flooded with light. It didn't quite make it to me and I stood still, hoping whoever had opened the door hadn't seen me yet. But I knew the shape of the boy standing in the doorway. The hulking figure of a certain werewolf with enhanced vision. And I knew he saw me.

Leaving the door open, he walked down the steps toward me. I took a deep breath and braced myself. I walked towards him and allowed him to block my way as I tried to step past him.

"Where's Simon?" he snapped.

I didn't react to his anger. We _were_ late and he had probably been waiting for at least an hour by the door, watching. And showing up late without Simon didn't exactly look good. For all he knew, I could have knocked him out in the middle of the woods and fled the scene.

"He's not far," I answered, my voice more confident than I was feeling, especially standing so close to him. Just being near him sent my senses on overdrive. _Why didn't I see this before? _"He dropped something. He went back to get it."

He stared at me as if he was trying to determine if I was lying. He must have found his answer. "Where's Simon?"

I sighed. "He needed to vent. He won't be long."

"Why did he need to vent?" he asked, his tone accusatory. "What happened?"

"Nothing," I said. "Really. It just didn't go as planned. Can I go inside, please? I'm cold."

He wasn't deterred. "What happened?"

"It just didn't work out," I said. I tried to step around him, but he merely side-stepped in front of me.

"What did you do?" he asked.

Again, I didn't react to the anger in his voice. He was closer this time and I was staring directly at his chest. Even with the baggy sweatshirt, I could see the expansion of each breath and I swallowed at the memory of his bare chest. I clutched the leg of my jeans when my hands started to rise.

"You like him, don't you?" he asked, steering the conversation away from my faults.

"Yes, I like him. Just not…"

"Not what?"

"Talk to Simon. He's the one who thinks…"

"Thinks what?" he asked.

"That there's someone else," I blurted. I squeezed my eyes shut and drew in a deep, steadying breath. "He thinks there's someone else."

"Who?"

I looked away across the yard, wishing this conversation was over. I was still discovering my feeling towards him. I wasn't ready for him to know yet. But I didn't need to answer. He had a brain. He could figure things out all on his own.

"Me?" he asked. "Simon said he thinks you and I are –"

"No, not that," I said. "He knows we aren't –"

"So what _does _he think?"

"That I like you."

I flinched as soon as the words left my mouth. I waited for him to say something, anything. But the words never came. Silence was my only answer. I stole a glance at his face and was surprised at what I saw. He didn't say a thing, but his eyes, which were usually stone, were revealing such emotion. Shock and confusion were very clear. And there was something, something that my wishful heart could only interpret as hope. But I knew that was crazy. There was no way Derek would hope that I liked him. He wanted so much for me to like Simon.

I took advantage of his temporary mental lapse and stepped around him. He seemed to come to his senses and sharply turned. He grabbed my arm so stop me and I winced when his fingers closed around my wounded arm. I looked up at him. Ignoring the increasing pounding of my heart at the skin to skin contact, I laid my hand on his and gently pried it off. His eyes snapped down to my hands and he slightly flinched when he saw what he had done. Before he could pull his hand away, I curled my fingers slightly around his and he looked back up to my eyes, confusion etched around his eyes. I held eye contact for a minute, hoping he'd get some sort of message. A message asking him if there was something between us, asking him if those feeling were only one-sided. I didn't know what he saw, but I slowly drew my hand away and took a step back. His hand hovered where mine used to be before slowly falling to his side. The entire time, he kept his eyes on me. I took another step back, but he made no move to follow. Sensing a sort of peace around us, I stepped back one more time and turned around as I did. I kept going toward the house, not seeing if Derek was behind me. I knew he wasn't.

The house was quiet as I shut the door behind me. Andrew must have gone to bed a long time ago. I knew Tori would still be awake and waiting to hear all the gory details, details I wasn't sure I wanted anyone to know just yet. I wasn't ashamed at my feelings for Derek, but I didn't think that Tori would exactly understand. She isn't a fan of Derek and she takes every opportunity she can to mock him in some way.

I stepped into the room and saw that Tori was lounging on her bed reading a large book. She looked up when she saw me and sat up, shutting the book with a thud.

"So?" she asked. "How'd it go?"

I stopped and thought. I was a little guilty that it hadn't ended well with Simon. He _had _tried. But my new-found attraction to Derek made the question more complicated.

Instead of telling her what happened, I settled with. "It didn't work out."

"Well, I can't exactly say I'm surprised," she said, settling herself back down and flipping back to the page she was on.

I watched her as she read and sighed. No. I wouldn't tell her anything. As much as I'd like to tell myself that we were friends, I didn't think we were close enough yet to spill my heart out.

I started going through the bag of clothes sitting on my bed. Tori informed me they were from Margaret and I fully believed her. I winced at the pattern and put them back in the bag. Picking it up, I walked to the door.

"I'm going to sleep by myself tonight, okay?" I said. "I kinda want to be alone."

"Alright," she said, "Don't forget to check the closets and underneath your bed for boogeymen."

I rolled my eyes and shut the door behind me. The hallway was pitch dark and I suddenly wished I had brought a flashlight. I groped my way down the hall and counted the doors as I went. When I was confident that I was far enough down the hall, I opened the door and flipped the light switch. The light flickered on and I looked around. The room was slightly larger than the others, which was probably due to the lack of two beds. The one bed that was there was shoved up against the wall. Besides a small nightstand and dresser, there was no other furniture in the room. I didn't remember cleaning the room, but the lack of dust meant that someone had.

Walking over to the bed, I tested out the lamp on the nightstand and was momentarily excited that it worked before one larger flicker burnt out the old bulb. I uselessly turned the lamp off and concentrated on my bag of clothes. I didn't like the pattern of the pajamas, but I didn't have much choice. Quickly changing, I shut off the light and walked over to the bed. Sleep evaded me and it wasn't until hours later that I was finally able to find some sleep.

…**,,,,…**

I wasn't sure what it was that woke me. Lying in bed, I looked around the dark room and listened. A sound came from the other side of the door and I sat up, clutching the blankets to my chest. There was a slight shuffling, like someone was pacing in front of the door. Then a frustrated sigh followed by slight creaking like they were leaning against the door. I was still debating about going to the door when the person tapped lightly against the wooden surface. Cautiously, I pushed the blankets down and stepped out of bed. I took my time getting to the door.

When I opened the door, I was relieved to see it was only Derek and not some creep. The hallway was dark and the only light came from the small window across the room.

"Is everything okay?" I asked quietly.

He opened his mouth to answer. Before the words could get out, his snapped to his left and he pushed me inside and closed the door. I waited in silence, wondering what was going on. Footsteps sounded down the hall. Based on the loudness, I'd say adult. Andrew. Why was Derek suddenly so concerned about Andrew seeing him? My eyes widened. I glanced over at Derek, who was leaning his full weight against the wall as if he didn't have the strength to hold himself up. His breathing was heavy and a second later, his body seemed to seize up and he hissed in pain. I walked over to him and laid my hand on his arm and felt the muscles begin to move.

"We have to get you outside," I whispered in case Andrew was still out there. "The back door?"

He shook his head. His words came out strained and with great effort. "Can't. Andrew."

"So we'll wait until he's gone," I suggested.

His body seized again and I knew we didn't have that much time.

"The window?"

He shook his head again. "Doesn't…open."

"How do you know?" I asked. He looked at me from the corner of his eye and I said, "Right. Don't answer that. Too much effort. But how are we going to get you outside?"

He groaned deeply and his legs gave way beneath him. I struggled to catch him and lower him to the floor.

"No…time," he groaned. "Coming…faster."

"Here?" I asked. "Are you crazy? Someone will hear!"

I began to stand and his hand shot out, grabbing my arm and pulling me back down. However, in his current state of mind, he didn't calculate his strength and he pulled me on top of him. Our eyes met and I breathed in sharply. He was worse than I thought. His eyes were bloodshot and his face was bright red from the fever coursing through his body. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and the look in his eyes was one I had never wanted to see from him. Sheer panic. He was afraid of what was happening to him and I suddenly knew why he pulled me back down. He was afraid that I was going to leave him to go through this alone.

I smiled as reassuringly as I could and brushed the sweat-soaked hair from his face.

"We'll just have to make it work," I said.

I pushed back and kneeled on front of him. "We'll have to do it here, but you have to be as quiet as you can, okay? I know it'll be hard, but we don't want Andrew hearing."

He nodded and pushed himself onto his knees. His fell forward onto his hands, his strength quickly depleting. He hissed in pain and his body shuddered he struggled to hold the change back.

"We have to get you undressed," I said. "Can you help?"

He tried to pull his sweatshirt off, but he couldn't seem to get it. I pushed his hands away and grabbed the bottom and pulled up, guiding his arms and head through the holes until the heavy clothing lay next to us on the floor. Next came his t-shirt. The fabric was thinner and was easier to work with. When I saw his bare chest so close again, I swallowed and pulled my eyes away. I hesitated when it came to his pants. Was taking them off going too far? I looked at his face and sighed. He was in no shape to take them off himself. He managed to push himself up enough to lean against my shoulder as I struggled to unbutton his jeans. His warm breath on my bare neck was distracting. I smiled when I finally got the button undone and I pulled down the zipper. I closed my eyes and grabbed the sides of his jeans and gently pulled until they were down to his knees. He was able to kick them off from there. I glanced down at his shorts and bit my lip.

"I'd say keep them on, but our clothing is sort of limited," I said.

He nodded. I turned my head and looked at the bed. Quickly getting up, I walked over and grabbed a blanket. Derek waited for me to get back to him. I threw the blanket over him and he finished undressing.

"Are you ready?" I asked.

His body spasmed. Whether he was ready or not, his body was. I helped him get into position and his body did the rest. Staying close to his side, I watched as his body began to morph into its second form. I grabbed his arm in my hands and ran them up and down comfortingly.

"You can do it," I murmured. "I know you can. You're strong."

He gritted his teeth as another spasm violently racked his body. My stomach twisted in knots as I watched him, knowing there was nothing I could do to make this better for him.

"I'm…sorry," he ground out while his vocal cords still resembled human.

"For what?" I asked softly. "For this? Don't be. It's not your fault. You can't help this."

He shook his head. "Making…you-"

"Hush," I said. "You didn't make me before and you're not making me now. I want to be here for you. I know I can't do anything to help, but I want to be here."

"Are…helping," he ground out, the words starting to morph with his body.

"No more words," I said. I reached up to rub his back. "You need to keep you strength."

He nodded and concentrated on the change. He was right. It _was _coming faster this time. And with each passing second, it was getting farther and farther along. The skin beneath my hands became rough as the hair forced its way out. It grew longer and longer beneath my fingers. He kept his face turned away, not wanting me to see him like this. I rubbed harder and kept murmuring what I hoped were comforting words. After a few more minutes, the change seemed to slow. I looked up at his face just as he spasmed once more and pushed me back in the process. I looked back up at him and stopped still. Lying on the floor underneath the blanket was a large, black wolf.

I pulled myself closer to get a better look. His eyes were closed and his breaths were coming out in heavy pants. As I looked at him, I couldn't help the stupid grin from spreading across my face.

"You did it!" I whispered excitedly.

He opened one eye and looked at me, as if saying 'well, duh.'

I reached out and stopped myself. He looked at my hand and pushed his head closer. I took that as a yes and I brushed my fingers through the soft fur. As I buried my fingers deeper, the fur became coarser and I could feel heat radiate off him like a furnace. I lightly touched the hot skin and pulled back. He pushed himself closer, touching my hand back to his skin. I looked at his face and saw his eyes close and I laid my hand against. My cold fingers must feel refreshing compared to him.

"Do you need to rest?" I asked.

I opened his eyes again and looked around the room. I sat back as he pushed himself into an awkward sitting position. He looked down and seemed to study his new body. His eyes travelled down his body and he seemed to take interest into the new addition which took the form of a bushy tail. He flicked it and his ears perked up a little. I tried to stifle my laughter, but he heard me and gave me a very wolfy glare. He turned back to what he was doing and shakily stood up. He stood stiffly, not sure if he was going to fall. He turned back to see how his body was reacting and took a step forward. His legs slid out from under him and sent him crashing to the floor. I gasped and rushed forward.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

He glared at the floor as if blaming it for his fall. Standing back up, he took a shaky step forward. He didn't fall. His ears perked up and took another step, falling back onto his face. A low growl emanated from his chest.

"You just need practice," I said. "You can't expect to get it right the first time."

I watched him as he struggled to make it to the other side of the room, falling with every step. I noticed the way he held himself, stiffly. I got an idea. I stood up and took a step to the door.

"You know, maybe we should get some help," I said. "I'll just go get Andrew and-"

Before I could take another step, Derek was standing in front of me, sporting a glare. I smirked down at him and he seemed to realize something had happened. He looked back at where he was previously standing and back to where we stood. His ears went back as he tried to figure it out.

"You're thinking too much," I said. "You're body knows what it's doing. You just have to let it."

He seemed hesitant.

"Alright," I said. I walked over to the bed and turned around to face him. "Walk to me. But you have to shut off your brain. Don't think of what you're doing. Just think about getting to me. Concentrate on me. Just listen to my voice."

He took a hesitant step forward, his eyes glued to mine. I continued speaking and he kept walking. I kept my voice calm. I stopped talking when he was standing in front of me and smiled.

"See," I said. "I was right."

He didn't seem to believe what was going on. I kneeled in front of him and touched the side of his face. I expected him to jump, but he merely turned his head to look at me. Those same startlingly green eyes stared back at me. My eyes traveled over his face, taking it all in. He stood still as I just looked at him.

"Are you okay?" I asked. "You're not in any pain, are you?"

He started to shake his hand and growled at the awkwardness.

"Do you think we should try to get outside?" I asked. "Burn off that excess energy?"

He sat down and I noticed how wary he looked.

"You need sleep. We can get some rest and then get back to practice," I said, standing up. I looked at the bed. "It's kinda small, but I think it'll fit the both of us. Unless you want to try and sneak past Andrew back to your room."

He shakily jumped up onto the bed, the springs squeaking under his weight. I waited for him to settle himself in a comfortable position before I joined him. It was a bit of a tight squeeze, but I didn't mind. His was giving off heat in waves and I was soaking it in. Before I knew it, I was asleep.

**Simon's POV: (Morning after)**

After discovering that Chloe wasn't sharing a room with Tori, I scoured the halls for her current residence. I didn't want to look like an idiot, knocking on random doors, so I quietly opened each one and looked inside. I really wanted to apologize to walking off last night and leaving her alone. Coming to the last door, I quietly pushed it open, my eyes on the floor. I froze. The floor was scattered with clothes. My eyes travelled from each article of clothing and my eyes widened when I saw boxers. Slowly looking up from the boxer's to the bed, my jaw dropped. Lying in the bed was Chloe. But she wasn't alone. She was lying on her side, her face turned away from me and towards the very bare chest of the second inhabitant. Derek, equally conked out, had his face against her head and his arm wrapped around her body, holding her against him. The blanket was tucked around her shoulders, so I didn't know how dressed she was, but I could say with certainty that Derek wasn't underwear model certified.

"Well," I thought, "_That _was fast."

**Well? Decent enough?**


End file.
